


Bound by Destiny

by justshyofgifted



Series: Oblivion Bound [1]
Category: Bloodbound (Visual Novel), Nightbound (Visual Novel)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Bisexuality, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Canon Divergence, Dissociation, Drama, Dream Sequence, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanfiction, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Lesbians, Multi, NSFW, Pining, Plot, Romance, Slow Romance, Trauma, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-07-28 00:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 127,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justshyofgifted/pseuds/justshyofgifted
Summary: Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.Book 1 in theOblivion Boundseries; focusing on Nadya and the events ofBloodbound 1. Completed.





	1. The Job

**Author's Note:**

> _Bound by Destiny_ and the other _Oblivion Bound_ works are based on the _Bloodbound_ & _Nightbound_ visual novels created for the Play Choices app game. 
> 
> While heavy inspiration and many plot points are taken from the original content, the _Oblivion Bound_ works are canon divergent and [at the time of publishing this, in the middle of BB2 and NB] may deviate from the plots taken in-game.
> 
> As of 04.07 this work is _finalized_ in edits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s never thought about doing clerical work before, but that’s not going to stop her. Nadya begins her new job as secretary for the mysterious Adrian Raines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** mentions of violence, death; language

As soon as Lily yanks the lipstick from her hand the cab screeches to a jerking halt on the curb. The kind of stop that has the potential to ruin an entire twenty minutes-worth of hasty makeup application. 

“Here.” grunts the Cabby, already flicking on his ‘VACANT’ sign and punching the buttons on his dash panel.

“Think you could chill out a little next time on the landing, Speed Racer? Here hon, hold this.” She returns the lipstick to its rightful owner to dig around in her bag for the cab fare.

Nadya sits in a daze; stares at her lipstick like she’s forgotten how to use it until Lily is grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her out onto the bustling Manhattan sidewalk.

“You okay?” Lily’s hands are warm in the sunlight. They manage to bring her out of her spell. With a one-two-three swipe of her lipstick she brings a beaming smile her roommate’s way.

“Never better. Thanks for the save back there.”

“Thank me with a paycheck. And pizza — you can never go wrong with pizza.”

The main entrance of Raines Corp. faces north, follows the path of the sun so as not to shine in. A strange thing to notice, Nadya thinks, but she can’t help but hope that means she won’t constantly have the sunset glaring in her eyes every evening.

“Final checks!” Lily announces, loud enough to gain the attention of several Wall Street schlubs on their blue-teeth or air-phones or whatever else they use to distract from the tedium.

_God, I hope I don’t end up like that at the end of this job…_ The thought flits through Nadya’s mind briefly before it’s lost in Lily’s vibrancy.

“Phone-wallet-keys?”

“Check.”

“Emergency Listerine strips?”

“Check.”

“Emergency deodorant?”

“Check.”

“Disdain for the bourgeoisie bullshit that allows people to treat secretaries like servants?”

Nadya laughs. “Check!”

“Then my dear,” she squeezes their hands together before letting go with a flourish of wide arms, “there’s nothing more I can do for you. You’re ready to walk into the belly of the Capitalist beast.”

But ‘ready’ though she may be Nadya doesn’t move; just stares at Lily’s encouraging smile like it’ll give her the power to take on the whole world or bring every skyscraper on the block crumbling to their foundations. 

Her roommate pushes her ropes of neon-purple dreads over her shoulder and goes in for the hug Nadya didn’t know she even needed; let alone ask for. It’s one she returns warmly — it brings back distant memories of clinging to her mother on the first day of school. 

“Seriously, Nadi’, you’ve got this.” whispers Lily into her ear, and Nadya very much _has this._

She turns and steels herself—a final mental check to ensure all is secure and well and _oh god did I forget my emergency tampon at home no Lily put it in the side pocket thank god_ so yes, it’s all well—before she strides in through the revolving doors.

“Don’t worry about dinner, honey-bunch! You just earn Momma that cheddar!” She can hear Lily’s faint laughter before the roar of industrialized air conditioning drowns out everything else.

Everything that had happened on the day of her interview had led Nadya to believe he might be a decent boss to work for; one of those kinds of CEOs who _had _wealth but didn’t flaunt it, or who gave out _really epic_ bonuses come Christmas or the New Year. She figured she’d be seeing a lot of him around — not that he’d be asking her to accompany him to important client dinners or doing that thing in movies where he asks her to order him midnight sushi and it turns out to be enough for two — because what CEO goes out of their way to personally attend the hiring of someone who only has top-tier security clearance because that’s where her desk is? 

Boy, was she wrong.

Adrian Raines communicates almost solely by email (or in the more urgent requests, the Raines Corp. interdepartmental instant message app). When he leaves his office he never needs to be accompanied. If not for the heaps of digital filing she’s asked to organize she’d almost forget who she was working for. He’s always polite; signs his emails with ‘thank yous’ and things like ‘I really appreciate all your hard work!’ but the distance takes some getting used to. 

“Maybe he’s just antisocial,” Lily suggests over their now-standard lunch break phone call. Nadya can hear the distant tinny noise of digital zombies having their heads blown off on Lil’s livestream. “You know, like one of those reclusive ba-jillionaires in the movies. Or he thinks you smell.”

“I don’t smell!” Nadya argues back — and definitely _doesn’t _do a smell-check of her armpits sheepishly. 

But Lily intends to find the silver lining in everything; one of the things that makes them get along so fabulously. “Think of it this way; _sooo _many people in your position have to see way too much of their bosses, right? And that burns them out! So you have more time to rake in the dough before you gotta high-tail it from Armaniville.”

“I guess,” she stabs a cold lump of orange chicken absentmindedly, “it’d just be a lot easier if he weren’t so darn nice.”

The next day Adrian sends her a list of things to get from the sub-basement archives; gifts for some client meeting he has in an hour. Nadya takes it on as a DEFCON 5 because each item is a separate _ping _on the IM server. If it can’t all be in one email it’s gotta be important, right?

All it takes is a requisition form sent below and the whole two dozen paces between her desk, the elevator, and the building delivery desk on the ground floor. She’d go into the conference room and deliver the package herself but while Adrian might appreciate the gesture the same might not be said for other head-honchos. So she leaves it on the corner of her desk for Adrian to grab on his way down.

Just before the lift doors open Adrian turns on his glossy heel. For the first time since her interview he addresses Nadya face-to-face.

“Nadya?”

“Yes, Mister Raines?” They both chuckle. Even with the impersonal disposition of digital communication they’ve found a way to share inside jokes; it took half a dozen messages for Nadya to learn how very serious Adrian was about being addressed by his first name even via email.

She glances up from Nicole’s daily ‘list of chores’ (Lily’s words, not hers, but she doesn’t deny the accuracy) to find Adrian staring at her. Even from across the room there’s a clarity to him. Adrian Raines _is _attractive; Nadya knows it, the numerous reporters from the tech, business, and gossip magazines Nadya has had to politely turn away all know it, hell even Adrian himself probably knows it — and not in the vain way pretty rich men know they’re pretty, but in a more humble sense. 

So yeah, having someone like him stare with that movie-star smolder at someone like her makes it impossible for Nadya not to blush. But he’s her boss, and this gig is too good for all the months of “We promise we’ll have the rent next month please don’t evict us!” back-pay they owe their landlord to risk. And she’s pretty sure trying to romance the boss is a _big _risk.

She tries again, “Yes, Mister Raines?” because Adrian seems to be in his own little world. One he finally snaps out of.

“I just wanted to make sure you know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since you came on. You’ve definitely been one of my more successful assistants.” That’s Adrian; making sure everyone feels appreciated. 

Nadya simply shrugs it off; wouldn’t do her well to get too airheaded so early in the game. “Just doing my job, Mister Raines.”

_“Nadya…”_

“Just doing my job,” she winks, _“Adrian.”_

It’s the longest meeting he’s ever had; the text she gets somewhere near dawn thanking her for staying but releasing her fills Nadya with nothing short of relief. Gathering her things, clocking out, swiping her card for the lift; everything is routine now. Even strolling passed the conference room on her way to the front desk.

_“Are you sure he’s being truthful about his numbers?”_

_“We can’t be sure of anything when it comes to Cecil, Adrian. That is why I insisted I go myself. He knows better than to lie to my face.”_

_“Yet he may still have.”_

Stopping in front of the frosted glass isn’t one of her smarter ideas. Not like it stops her. Mostly she’s caught off guard by the seriousness of Adrian’s tone even through the doors. Can’t think of a time when she _ever _heard him sound like that; almost _dark,_ or _angry. _

But where Adrian is filled with passion whoever he’s speaking to keeps her cool. Her voice a velvet purr so low Nadya finds herself straining to hear, leaning closer to the door and closer to the danger of discovery.

_“I have my associates scouring the city for where they might be originating. You’d think someone might report seeing a corpse or two suddenly going grey and—”_

A gruff Indian drawl interrupts her. Even from a distance Nadya feels like that’s a bad move.

_“This is New York, Kamilah. Bodies are as rare as pigeons!”_

_“Then what have you contributed, Lester?”_ asks Adrian.

Lester grumbles something she doesn’t quite catch, then: _“Don’t flash those at me, pup. I’ll speak to my men on the PD and see if they’ve been keeping anything hiding under their little blue belts.”_

None of it makes sense. There’s walking in on half a conversation and then there’s whatever Adrian and his associates are discussing. The one thing Nadya is sure of is how much she dislikes the knot forming in her gut while her mind races to try and put some of what she’s hearing together.

There’s a long silence. For a moment she fears she’s been found out and her heart drops out through her stomach. Then she hears Adrian again — this time he sounds tired. 

_“We have to get this under control. Until we do every victim is our fault; their blood is on _our _hands.”_

If there’s more to his speech she doesn’t stick around to hear it. Finds herself out on the cold Manhattan sidewalk just as the sun starts to haul itself up over the horizon. She doesn’t even remember if she said goodbye to the night guard. Her blood pounds in her ears. 

Lily made a valiant effort to stay awake and greet her as evidenced by a full cup of tea gone cold on the island counter. But her roommate is passed out on the couch — Nadya envies that ability to sleep anywhere. The words _victim _and _blood _and hands echo in Adrian’s voice around her skull like bouncy-balls while she gets ready for bed.

* * *

Adrian acts like nothing is different — and to him it isn’t. But whenever she gets the chance Nadya tries to find some inkling, some shadow hidden behind his megawatt smile and usual charm. If ever given the chance to wander her mind starts coming up with fantastical ideas and scenarios: like seeing him as Christian Bale in _American Psycho_ or getting a late-night text for her to come into work and finding him in the process of wrapping a body up in construction plastic. 

Nadya only imagines being the victim of the cruel-yet-classy alter ego of Adrian once. Somehow discovering his secret life as a hitman or deranged killer is more believable than the thought that he would ever harm her.

But it doesn’t stop the hairs on the back of her neck from standing up when the rarity arrives of Adrian leaving at the same time as her. Lots of people are murdered in elevators in the movies.

“So… everything alright?”

Nadya looks to find Adrian’s gaze level and calm and _right at her. Oh god,_ she thinks, _he knows!_

She fumbles for an answer instead — tries, and fails, to play it cool. 

“Peachy keen.”

“Are you sure?” He’s not gonna press the matter if she doesn’t want to talk about it; just another one of the things that makes Adrian Raines possibly _the _ideal man. But he needs to stop looking like a kicked puppy in order to make it easier for her to lie to him. 

So she decides to pick a different truth instead. “Yeah, I’m just not looking forward to the long trip home.”

Adrian’s nose scrunches. “I was under the impression your apartment was one train away.”

“Normally it is. But they shut down the station at my stop a couple nights ago. Some accident on the weekend or something.”

It’s exactly the _Adrian _thing for him to do when he offers her a ride home in the company car. And it’s the _Nadya _thing for her to decline, but rather than playfully letting it slide Adrian actually insists. Pipes up what could have been the speech her mom gave her about moving to ‘the Big City’ verbatim; with strangers lurking the streets and the subway never _really _being as safe as they claim. 

“And forgive my selfishness,” he finishes while opening the sleek black Buick door, “but I’d have a pretty hard time finding another secretary with hours as flexible as yours. So let’s get you home safe and sound.”

One complimentary ride home is a favor. Then one turns into two, turns into the whole week, turns into “I know your station opened back up yesterday, Nadya, but if I’m being honest I enjoy the detour and the company,” and by the time Adrian’s car is pulling onto the curb outside her building at sunset—the usual time she sets off—there’s really no opportunity to refuse.

“I went to make you a cup, too, but then I realized I have no idea how you take your coffee — secretaries everywhere have shunned me.” Nadya greets him by way of apology, sliding into the now-familiar front seat with her travel mug in hand. Adrian laughs.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m more of a tea person.”

If Adrian is surprised when, same time next day, Nadya slides in with her usual mug and a second with a teabag string dangling over the side, he hides it well. 

But while their routine has become more personable and casually affectionate it hasn’t entirely cleared her boss of suspicion. There’s three more meetings he releases her early for. She doesn’t snoop like the first time but definitely catches the same voices in her passing haste to the exit. 

Then one ordinary night she spots an error on Adrian’s agenda.

“Did you want me to call the Gallery about getting a refund?” She doesn’t knock before entering — doesn’t really need to at this point. There’s something weirdly intimate about sitting in his car flicking radio stations while he pumps gas and returns with her favorite chocolate peanut-butter cookies. Intimate in that it makes knocking seem unnecessary.

Used to it, Adrian doesn’t look away from his screen. “Refund for what?”

“You bought two tickets to this thing, the ‘Manhattan Gallery’s Dedication to National Geographic Auction’ on Friday next.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“And—Jesus—they’re _five hundred bucks_ a piece?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So did you want a refund?”

“Why? I asked yesterday if you had plans then. You said no.”

It takes her a moment before Nadya’s doing her best impression of a fish. 

“That second ticket’s _mine?”_

Now out of his chair Adrian leans against his desk with a smirk that could almost be called cheeky. If she didn’t know him better, that is.

“Well who else would I take?” he asks genuinely.

“I—I mean—well Nicole, for one.”

He waves off his assistant’s name. Odd, Nadya can’t help but think, since they seemed have a close relationship — close enough for her to berate him in front of a stranger on the day they met. Maybe less so in the last months… but still.

“She’s been to dozens of these. I wanted to take someone who might actually appreciate something new.” His falter is only slight. “I mean, of course, if you _want _to come. I probably shouldn’t have assumed.”

And she does, _oh she does,_ but a nagging voice in the back of her head that sounds not-so-suspiciously like Anne-Marie from HR — who probably didn’t think Nadya could hear her over the gurgle of the downstairs coffee cart when she leaned over to her coworker and whispered a _nasty _rumor about _“Mister Raines and his Secretary of the Night”_ — has her hesitant to say the least.

She’s taken too long to respond when Adrian’s hands fall on her shoulders. He cranks up the AC so high she had to pull her winter sweaters out of storage in the middle of summer. Even through the wool though she can feel the chill of his palms.

“Nadya? Talk to me.” Kind Adrian; Kind, empathetic, stupidly perceptive Adrian.

It makes her step back; gain some personal—and professional—space between them. 

“Mister Raines,” and _when did this become her life exactly,_ “I appreciate the gesture; _all _the gestures, actually, but…” already she’s hoping Lily kept yesterday’s newspaper with the classifieds, “I’m not… well, I’m not exactly interested in you in that… way.”

Adrian Master-of-the-Unexpected Raines goes bright red. Has Nadya wondering if she should take a picture to sell to the same tabloids that claim to see equally nonexistent things like Bigfoot. 

Then he takes a deep breath. “Nadya — er, Miss Al Jamil — if I _ever _gave you the impression I… what I mean to say is that if you’ve found any of my actions untoward — erm — or, possibly, salacious in nature, I assure you, I—wait no, let me—”

He’s actually fumbling, which is how Nadya realizes he’s taken aback by her statement; how she realizes he was a million miles away from _that _dangerous place. And did he just say _salacious? _

To her surprise Adrian actually stops when she holds up a finger. 

“Before you, uh, choke on your own tongue,” _probably not the best idea to bring up his tongue but you know what they say about hindsight,_ “just… answer one question, okay?”

He nods.

“Is this an invitation as your date, or as your coworker?”

“Good heav — as my _coworker,_ Nadya!” He practically chokes on his relief. It takes an exhale for Nadya to realize she is, too. Then they’re laughing, separately and awkwardly, and the next thing Nadya knows Adrian is pouring two tumblers of expensive scotch from the little trolley to the side of his desk that she’s never seen him use before. He’s her boss and he’s the one offering it, so he can’t get on her case when she accepts the liquor like the peace offering it is.

* * *

Friday night comes around and, as expected, the world ends.

“How can one person own this many dresses and _none _of them be for freakin’ formal events?!” 

“Hey! That Sailor Mars dress was made _specifically _for a ball!”

“Lily, I’m only gonna say this one more time—” Nadya pokes her head out of her roommate’s tiny closet with what she hopes is a glare that thoroughly conveys her frustration; though the way her large glasses are dangerously ready to fall off the tip of her nose negates that completely, “—I can’t wear _Sailor Moon cosplay_ to the Manhattan Art Gallery!”

Lily huffs and nibbles another spicy cheese puff. “Show me where it says that on the damn dress code…”

In a flurry of barely-clothed despair Nadya rushes back across the hall to her own room. Lily follows — cradles her snack bowl in her arms like one would a precious infant.

“I don’t get why the dress you bought doesn’t work.” Lily plops down next to the last-minute ordered dress and is careful to keep her cheesy mitts _off _the fabric. “It’s nice! And pink looks good on you, girl.”

Nadya looks the dress over with barely-contained spite. “It’s just… more skin than I thought it would be.” She mimes the shape of the dress’ lack of shoulder-cloth and Lily nods with an understanding _“Oooh.”_

“It just feels weird to wear something, like, kinda sexy after last week’s weirdness, you know? It’s weird! I think it’s weird, he’ll think it’s weird. It’ll just be…”

“Weird?” supplies Lily, who barely has time to duck the ball of socks thrown her way.

“And I don’t have time to go shopping. Adrian’ll be here in…” she looks to her bedside clock and groans, _“an hour…_ I need more than an hour to fix my life!”

“Don’t we all.” Lily falls down beside the distraught form of her room mate and finger-feeds her a puff as per their agreement on dealing with messy snacks in mess-free zones. She wipes her hands diligently on her junk tee and caresses the apple of Nadya’s cheek with her thumb. 

“Hon, just wear it. It’s your first time doing the ‘ritzy rich person’ thing and Adrian’ll _totally _get that. And if he tries to make it weird just laugh it off in that totally un-sexy way you do and _boom_—instant boner-killer.”

It’s not the pep-talk that would get the Cordonian Princess Caoimhe through her wedding day jitters, but it’s enough for Nadya; and that’s all that matters. With exaggerated grunts and huffs she hauls herself off the bed and starts to wrangle on the dress.

“I told you what he said, right?”

“You tell me a lot of things, sweetie.” 

Nadya turns for Lily to dutifully zip her up. “He said I was _‘too young for him anyway,’_ like, what does that even _mean?”_

“Do you want the Valyrian translation or something?”

“He’s thirty-one. I’m twenty-five! My parents had a bigger age gap than that!” 

Lily pats the finished zipper, pulls Nadya to turn around so she can do her other, unsung duty by helping Nadya show off what she was born with. 

“I mean maybe — _stop fidgeting you have boobs so show them off, Christ_ — maybe he’s into cougars. Pretty boys usually have some form of Oedipus complex.”

“Mm… I don’t think so. Adrian’s different.”

“How?”

“He just — _OW who the heck gives purple nurples these days?!_ — He just _is,_ okay?! Now take your hands out of my bra Lily Spencer!”

The play-fighting gets put aside for the good of maintaining the integrity of the dress. The hour drags on, half of it spent waiting around for her (suddenly too-long, too-unruly, too-resistant) hair to dry. Nadya is always more likely to throw her hair up in a bun and go no matter the occasion, but this isn’t just any occasion. _I’ll be representing Raines Corp, and Adrian by proxy,_ she reminds herself through every stubborn tug of her brush.

Lily is fiddling with her purse as Nadya finally exits the bathroom in a cloud of hairspray and second thoughts.

“So I packed you two granola bars in case they don’t have anything lactose-intolerant. And there’s some spare cash if you wanna dip out and grab a cab home. Did you grab your flats?”

“I can’t switch shoes in the middle of a thing like this.”

“Pretty sure I read something about it being totally acceptable.”

“Where, in a fanfiction?”

“I mean, it was _The Royal Romance_ so… does that count?”

She turns around as she asks and sucks in audibly. The silence is self-conscious; immediately makes Nadya smooth down her hair with a nervous hand.

“What? Oh no, what’s wrong? _Speak, Lily, words!” _

She finds herself enveloped in a tight hug instead of an actual response, which is both a comfort and jostles her nerves slightly. “Lil’…”

Her roommate’s words are choked with embellished emotion. “You look like a real adult. I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Oh—_bull!”_ Nadya pushes her off with a laugh — but the compliment does bring a flush to her cheeks. “I look good, though? I’ve still got a bit to change up—”

The sudden, high-pitched buzz of the complex bell interrupts as argument. One, long noise before it goes deathly silent. 

Lily’s beaming. “Well that was an awfully _adult _ring. The kind of ring fancy professionals use!”

“No, no no!” Nadya fumbles for her phone to check the time. “He’s early! He’s _here!_ Why is he _here _why is he ringing the bell why is — _Lily don’t you dare!”_

But she’s too late to stop the bouncing, bubbly roommate from rushing to the comm.

“Buzzing you in! Come on u—_ah!”_

Her greeting turns into a cry of protest as Nadya yanks her backwards.

“What are you _doing?!”_

“I wanna meet him!”

Nadya gestures wildly around the apartment; she doesn’t need to explain herself. The place isn’t exactly in the best state. But who could blame them — the last thing anyone wants to do when they finish a night shift is clean and Lily… well, it was in a worse state before Nadya moved in. At least now there’s a small garbage can beside the couch for all the empty chip bags.

In the time it takes Adrian to knock on their door, the pair manage to gather up empty snacks into the trash and hide everything else inside the ottoman. Lily’s hair whips at her face as she tries to pin down Nadya for the door. 

“Girl—what are you _doing?”_ She uses a little too much force in turning off the running sink and they battle clumsily over a soapy plate before Lily successfully replaces it with a towel. “He’s not _staying._ You don’t need to wash the _plates.”_

“I—” She has to right herself, but Lily’s correct, as usual. “I panicked.”

“Uh-huh. Door.”

“What?”

_“Door.”_

A second knock startles Nadya to action. “C-Coming!”

The doorways of Raines Corp. must be specially-designed to make Adrian look like the average man, Nadya realizes, because there’s a towering, statuesque beauty to the way her boss stands before her. He even manages to make the chipped old paint job from the ‘70s look glamorous.

“Ready to get going?” Adrian asks by way of greeting; slides one of his hands out of his pockets and offers a crooked elbow like he’s escorting her to some fancy ball.

She almost manages to take it without incident. Almost. While she regains her balance from being unceremoniously shoved aside Lily busies herself with shaking Adrian’s hand with firm vigor.

“You must be the boss-man! Lily Spencer — roommate, confidante, and Nadya’s personal _Bryan Mills.”_ The way her smile falters isn’t unfamiliar — Adrian’s furrowed brow has already lost him points in Lily’s book.

“I’m sorry — who?” he asks; only just manages to steal his hand back.

Lily scoffs, yet Nadya can’t remember an instance where someone _did _understand her right off the bat. 

“Bryan Mills?” As though repeating his name will somehow jog Adrian’s nonexistent memory. “You know… _‘I have a very particular set of skills that make me a nightmare for people like you?’”_

Before he can flounder too long, though, Nadya mouths the movie title over Lily’s shoulder.

“Oh, right, from _Taken.” _

Lily brightens considerably. “Oh, good! You’ve seen it!”

“Once, I think. I remember it playing on the plane…”

“So you know what I’ll do to you if my girl doesn’t come ho—”

“And we’re _leaving!”_ Her voice raised and pitched high with panic, Nadya manages to hip-check her way into the hall._ “When I get home I’m gonna kick your butt!”_ she hisses — and punctuates her threat by closing the door harder than necessary.

She really hopes she still has a job by the time she and Adrian make it to the stairwell. There are five, possibly six different apologies ready on the tip of her tongue but they die off with a quick glance. Adrian’s smiling — no — _beaming _in a way she’s not seen before. It makes him look years younger — less like there’s a burden on his chest. She allows herself a moment of relief, and strains herself not to ruin it.

They could be heading out for another evening at the office with the casual ease between them. How Adrian opens the door and only starts the car when she’s buckled in properly, and the light conversation about a meeting he has next week with the CFO of a recently-acquired company. Nadya fidgets in what she hopes is a subtle way the entire drive downtown — it would be a shame to ruin such polite conversation with questions about which forks to use and who to not make herself look like a fool in front of.

Then (all too soon in Nadya’s opinion) Adrian pulls out of evening traffic to park on the Gallery curb. While he steps out to flag down a valet she allows herself a moment of pure, unrestrained panic while looking out the tinted windows. 

A red carpet has been draped out for the occasion; down the Gallery steps to stop on the sidewalk where one couldn’t get through the mob of onlookers, reporters, and photographers if they tried. It looks less like a Gallery exhibition than a Hollywood movie premiere. Makes Nadya aware of every stark flaw — from the slightly loose fit on her dress to the few flyaway hairs she couldn’t wrangle in. 

“You absolutely _cannot _do this,” she scolds — an insult aimed to quiet her racing heart, “this is _way _beyond you. You’re gonna make a fool out of yourself. Nothing in life has prepared you for a night like this… just like your interview. Got that, huh? So… don’t fall on your face or murder somebody and you’ll be fine. Just fine.”

The passenger door opens and a gust of cool night air sends goosebumps racing through every exposed part of her. Adrian extends his hand.

In a stupor, Nadya blinks and it takes a moment for her to register what he’s doing. “Huh?”

He laughs, takes the initiative, and tucks her clutch in his armpit before pulling her from the car.

“Come on. Wouldn’t want to miss the hors d’oeuvres. You haven’t lived until you’ve had beluga caviar.”

Nadya follows — and readies herself to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For readers heavily familiar with the timeline of events in BB, you will have started to see the differences right away in this chapter. I hope you enjoyed nonetheless! Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you.
> 
> **Update on 04.07:** Initial editing on this work is completed.
> 
> Find out more about _Bound by Destiny_, the _Oblivion Bound_ series, and Nadya at my writeblr: [jcckwrites](http://jcckwrites.tumblr.com/)


	2. The Gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadya’s first formal event goes about as well as to be expected. At least there are pretty girls to look at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** language

“You know, these are the kinds of events that incite supervillains and large gangs of jewelry thieves.”

“Are you a supervillain?”

“I was waiting for the right time to tell you.”

“Do I not pay enough?”

“Being a supervillain has crappy benefits. Raines Corp. dental, though? Top notch.”

Nadya doesn’t want to imagine what she’d be doing if Adrian weren’t here. Or — even worse — if he wasn’t able to match her joke-for-joke. He could very well have been the type of boss who was enjoyable in private but had to shove the proverbial stick up his butt when it came to public events like these.

But nope. Adrian Raines, one of the top bachelors in New York City, is skirting the wall near the chocolate fountain right along with her. 

Sure, he did his rounds when they first entered the ballroom of the Gallery. “If you want I can introduce you,” he had whispered before the first wave of Estee Lauder and old money came their way, “but these types… they don’t really expect the assistants to talk.” He’d been ashamed — maybe not for himself but for society. 

But that was fine by her. “I don’t like being introduced anyway.”

So for each newly greased palm or sharp-cut suit that came their way she took a step back, zoned out for the brief-but-polite conversation, and made sure to give the alarmingly attentive college kid who always seemed to have _one extra_ refill glass of champagne just for her a tip that would make the oldest crone here wither and fall into an early grave.

Every once in a while Adrian would point out a prominent figure here or an only-famous-in-Europe artist there. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed at the number of famous faces in the same room as her.

“That’s Adam Vega. You’ve heard of him, right?” Adrian points to a set of too-white pearly whites attached to the Senator across the floor.

“Presidential hopeful next election, yeah,” she shrugs, “he’s not given a clear stand on his support of the queer community yet, though, so Lily and I are leaning towards Representative Hartley from California.”

His eyebrows raise; visibly impressed. “I agree. Politicians hate giving direct answers. Vega especially.”

There’s a hint of a personal vendetta there that Nadya notices but doesn’t bring attention to. It wouldn’t surprise her if Vega’s campaign had asked for donations from the company — or if, after tonight, she would see that very email at work Monday evening.

Off to the left corner — where she remembers seeing some marble sculpture, something to do with Venus maybe — it looks as though every photographer allowed into the event flocks around an obscured figure. 

_“Mademoiselle! Over here!”_

_“Wonderful, absolutely stunning!”_

_“Look this way next, Miss Lacroix! Over here!”_

Standing on her tip-toes does nothing to help reveal the hidden subject, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.

“Don’t bother,” mumbles Adrian under his breath. “feeding her vanity is the last thing anyone should be doing.”

“Feeding _whose _vanity?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Have you tried one of these pineapple slices in chocolate?”

Before Nadya has a chance to respond a voice comes purring behind her.

_“You could at least _try _and be unpredictable, Adrian. This is the third event you’ve spent sulking by the sweets.”_

Though Adrian brightens considerably at the woman who lurks behind Nadya, her reaction couldn’t be more opposite. Chills down her spine and the air in her lungs catching in her throat — desperate not to be let out in the same space as that familiar tone. She’d heard the woman named Kamilah only twice since the meeting-that-shall-not-be-named and both were phone calls. No name, no caller ID, just Nadya’s usual greeting of _“Raines Corp., desk of Mr. Raines speaking, may I help you?”_ and the curt reply: _“he’s expecting my call.”_ It was as though Adrian had been waiting with his ear to the door — the line transferred before she even had a chance to ask the woman to hold. 

And now in person the voice was as unmistakable as it was beautiful; a soft yet commanding tone with a slight accent that curled on the tip of her tongue. If she hadn’t first been introduced to Kamilah by snooping on a meeting that may implicate her boss in murder, she’d be smitten. But falling for killers was morally wrong.

Though that was a moral stance that goes right out the window the moment she turns to meet Kamilah face-to-face. If Amazons existed, they were modeled after her. The statue of Venus across the ballroom would probably start weeping if it laid eyes on her. Nadya’s entire female celebrity hotness scale, which went from sweet Lady Hana Lee to sexy _AME _star Bianca Sandoval, was thrown _horrendously _off-kilter.

Is she gaping? Oh crap, she’s gaping. But there had to be laws against dresses that form-fitting on such attractive people. And if there weren’t then she needed to have a talk with Senator Vega at some point that evening.

Then Adrian’s arm is around her shoulder and he’s squeezing her gently against his side. Her name might have been thrown somewhere in there.

“And this, Nadya, is Kamilah Sayeed, CEO of Ahmanet Financial and a very close personal friend of mine.”

Kamilah’s nose scrunches up ever-so-slightly and she rolls her eyes. 

“Adrian you make it sound so… _tawdry,”_ she scolds, “when honestly the very thought of you _very close and personal_ with me threatens to ruin my evening meal.”

There’s a private laugh between the pair — something Nadya is witness but not privy to — but it’s enough to wake her from the stupor of sudden racing thoughts concerning her sexuality.

“Uh—n-nice to meet you. I’m Nadya, Nadya Al Jamil.” She offers Kamilah her hand. Kamilah ignores it.

“Yes, though I suppose we’ve met before.” The comment sends her blood running cold; leaves Nadya gaping like a fish for excuses, apologies, anything that would keep them from silencing her for what she knows. 

Adrian looks between them — chuckles through his confusion. “What? When?”

When all her floundering is for naught, Kamilah takes the reins. 

“On the phone. If you’d call that a proper meeting, that is.”

Her exhale is a little too long, a little _too _relieved. Adrian’s used to the quirks that she’s made of; stacked like a game of _Tetris _abandoned near the end. But Kamilah — she notices. Combining the lights overhead and her makeup; Nadya could swear her pupils narrowed into slits.

“Something the matter?” She doesn’t even pretend flippancy and that Adrian notices. The way he looks between them makes her erupt in goosebumps.

Nadya shakes her head hastily. “Just not used to these sorts of things, right? Am I right?” But before she can drink for something to do Adrian’s hand snakes the champagne flute from her grasp. It lands delicately on a passing serving tray and is whisked off into used-stemware oblivion.

“Maybe that’s enough for you, tonight.” He’s teasing but the concern is genuine. Nadya watches a _look _pass between the mutual moneymakers — hopes to dear god whatever _isn’t being said_ isn’t about her.

When a greying gentleman takes the podium up front the entire floor goes into a hushed silence. His first words, “I’m sure I don’t need to introduce myself,” are followed by snooty, nose-up polite laughter and that’s all anyone feels obligated to say while he drones on about donations to the Gallery, funding, and various sponsored artists featured tonight. The silence in the room is so thin a dropped pin might send the roof crumbling down on them — so there go Nadya’s hopes of asking Adrian what the man was talking about. One chocolate strawberry turns into two, and by the time the room breaks into restrained applause and the man takes his leave, her fingers meet an empty tray.

Doors open off to the side to the Gallery’s displayed collection. Large canvases filled with blurry vibrancy that, even from her distance, Nadya can tell is skill unparalleled.

She’s already several paces towards the beckoning beauty when she notices she’s alone. Turns with a frown — until she spots Adrian speaking to Kamilah in hushed tones.

“Adrian, you coming?” calls Nadya — when she catches the slightly desperate crack in her voice she wishes she hadn’t. 

His infallible smile reaches her even at their distance. “You go on ahead. I’ve just got a bit of business to discuss first.”

That’s when she notices the portly man in a too-tight tuxedo behind the glamorous pair. He’s average, curly hair and beard shaved just a little too short on the right side. But he moves in a strange, graceful way — like Adrian and Kamilah. They congregate and then like statues remain still, close; secretive. Despite the movement towards the exhibition around them. 

It brings a chill down her spine. “Are you sure?”

Something in Kamilah’s brow furrows; her annoyance clear. Adrian remains nonplussed. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” he nods, gestures for her to follow the crowd, “I’ll catch up with you in a moment.”

At risk of her own neck Nadya leaves them, despite every bone in her body screaming at her not to turn her back.

At first Nadya was surprised at all of the faces shown at the event. It gave her a little hope that art was still appreciated in the world. Hope that she found dashed when she realized the truth: that the majority of people looking at the blown-up photographs in all their high-definition only cared about the people looking at _them. _

The majority of attendants skirt around the edges of the works; file strangely in the middle of the gallery’s hall like some opposite-day weirdness. Every once in a while someone will step forward, alcohol in hand, and air a compliment or observation that their party agrees with in nods and murmurs and subtle toasts. Gallery workers, all identified by their matching ties and lapel pins of the Gallery’s logo, stand here and there with clipboards at the ready and wearing rolls of stickers like fashion statements. 

One woman stands passive beside a beautiful canvas of a sprawling rocky valley. The grey of the sky is dark but the grass underneath it shines bright like the sun was just out of view. Nadya approaches — notes her high-and-tight blonde bun and is briefly reminded of how grateful she is Adrian didn’t invite Nicole along — and offers her a friendly nod.

“Hello.”

The woman arches a brow but says nothing.

Twenty-eight agonizing seconds of awkward silence pass. She tries again.

“This is a really pretty piece.”

The woman’s jaw sets at _pretty,_ features then easily schooled into a complacent smile. She’s seen people look at garbage with kinder eyes. “Indeed, miss.”

“Where was this taken?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, miss.” The worker’s responses grow terse; clipped. A flush of shame floods over her cheeks.

“Oh. Of course. I—”

There’s a familiar _click-clack_ of stilettos that stop just behind her. Nadya sucks in a breath but before she can continue a crisp voice interrupts. 

_“Wow, you’re serious right now?” _

Nadya whirls around but the woman and her shock of vibrant violet hair are trained on the Gallery worker. 

Who seems to have found the only person in the room she likes _less _than Nadya herself. “Pardon me, miss. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Violet-Hair raises her glass of wine — near empty — and points a nail at the piece. 

“Pretty sure I was speaking English, was I speaking English sweetheart?” She looks to Nadya; who nods dumbly. “Right. Yup. English.”

The worker’s patience is wearing thin. “Indeed you were, miss. What I did not understand was your… exclamation.”

Violet-Hair laughs; loudly, unabashedly, not caring that she’s drawing the attention of at least a dozen people standing nearby. In fact she seems to relish in the attention. “Oh! Right! Silly me. I guess I was just, I dunno, like, _super _surprised to hear that you _work here_ and you don’t know where this shot was taken.”

She’s spoken just loud enough that anyone else having a conversation either has to wait until she’s done or abandons it altogether for something more interesting. Two women loudly arguing with a Gallery employee must never happen at one of these things, Nadya guesses, that or they figured it would happen later on in the evening. But it’s safe to say they’re the current stars of the proverbial show.

“I mean isn’t that what you’re _trained _to know? Jeez, at least stand next to a big old hunk of art you’re familiar with.” With the crowd at her advantage the woman jerks her thumb at the employee, now flush with offense, as if to say _‘get a load of this.’_

The half-moon around them murmurs around one another and it’s the final straw. “Of course I know — these are some of the most detailed photographs of the Scottish Highlands ever taken. I’m offended at your insinuation, _miss.”_

If she had a dictionary on hand Nadya was suddenly sure that the face of the violet-haired troublemaker would be the picture definition of _‘cat that got the cream.’_ Her eyes narrow, painted lips turned down into a sultry frown, and there’s a poisonous edge to the sweetness in her voice.

“Wow. You don’t say?”

“Despite this being one of _the _most acclaimed shots taken by the photographer, to think I would not know the piece I’m auctioning off is — well — it’s affronting to say the least.”

She sips the last of her wine; forces a pregnant pause on those looking on. Then her hand falls on Nadya’s shoulder with nothing short of intimacy.

“Then why’d you tell my friend here you didn’t know?”

If she had the courage or the voice, Nadya would try to smooth the situation over as best she could. Instead she just stands there, a statue, and wishes she hadn’t eaten two dozen chocolate strawberries.

“P-Pardon?” asks the worker; eyes flicking between the pair.

“If you knew, why didn’t you just tell my friend where it was?”

“Well, I—” 

“Why’d you have to be such a stubborn bitch that I had to get involved?”

“Your language is—”

“I may curse like a sailor but at least I’m not a cunt.”

“Miss!” she gasps at the curse, thrown for a loop. Unsure of what to say next. She looks ready to call for security, but the violet-haired vixen made sure to tear down her confidence first. She’s left hanging and Nadya is absolutely awestruck.

“But you know, I think I’m gonna be generous today. I should be generous today, right,” she glances briefly at Nadya who nods like it’s somehow her decision, like she’s culpable in the absolute _slaughter _of the worker’s self-esteem, “yeah, I’ll be generous I think. I _won’t _tell your boss you were being horrible to a potential buyer just because she looks like she bought her dress on a clearance rack.”

Nadya _could _object. She doesn’t. It’s not entirely false but still hurts to hear it.

Then she steps forward and coaxes down the gallery worker with one perfect finger. Wordlessly bats away the woman’s hesitance and whispers something in her ear that lasts long enough for the attending crowd to mill back into their own circles of conversation and for Nadya to watch the blonde woman go absolutely pale — almost sickly green with what she can only assume is fear.

She passes something like a business card between them and Nadya watches while the worker scribbles something down on her clipboard and places a bright orange dot underneath the plaque bearing the photograph’s title. Orange, she recalls, means a purchase. No bid worth it, apparently.

A tender hand on her arm brings Nadya out of her thoughts, looking up into the eyes of her apparent rescuer and her tender-yet-sultry smile.

“Come on, let’s get out of the snake pit.”

She didn’t know she needed the fresh air until it hits her in a chilly wind. She follows the woman onto some outside terrace overlooking the Gallery’s gardens; a strange and fragrant floral oasis in the middle of a bustling metropolis.

“Katherine, by the way, since you forgot to ask.”

Katherine’s hand is offered in a polite way — soft skin hiding a surprisingly firm grip when Nadya takes it.

“Nadya.”

Her new friend wanders to the balcony’s edge and leans over. There’s no invitation but somehow she feels expected and plants herself beside. 

“I just hate people like that, you know? People who think they’re better than everyone else because maybe they had more opportunities, or got lucky and were born with money, or whatever. Man, let a girl look at a fucking picture and think it’s cool!” 

Nadya silently agrees to Katherine’s whole rant. “I’ve always wanted to go to Scotland. Nearly went on a year abroad in England during college but, uh, something came up, exams, maybe… and I had to cancel the trip.” And she hadn’t thought about it since. Not until she caught sight of those craggy sloping hills that looked so much like the photos in the brochure she kept on her pin board for all four years of her degree.

Katherine leans back on her elbows; her smile almost pitying. “There’s nothing special over there, hon. Trust me.”

“You’ve been?”

“Too many times.”

“I’m still jealous.”

There’s no one around to refill their drinks — either they aren’t supposed to be out here or the free booze is limited to the indoors. Katherine’s definitely sad about her empty wine glass but the scent of the garden down below is enough of a high for her.

“So…” she fumbles to try and fill the silence, “you come here often?”

Katherine’s laugh is demure and restrained. She can’t help but think the woman is containing herself from something. Brick by brick an invisible wall is being formed to keep them at a distance. It makes no sense but Nadya isn’t one to judge. Well — out loud, anyway.

“No, not really. Didn’t know if you could tell but I hate these rich people types.”

“So why are you here?”

“Meeting clients.”

“Oh? Are you an artist?”

She pauses like it’s the most important question in the world. Finally shakes her head and releases Nadya’s bated breath. 

“No. No, I’m not.”

“Why do you —”

The door opens behind them and a sudden breath of relief catches their attentions.

“There you are, Nadya, I’ve been looking all over for you.” 

Adrian emerges into the night and though his face is the picture of casual calm she could have sworn there was the briefest flash of panic in his eyes — now hidden far and pushed down deep. 

“Here I am.” She teases, offers him a casual shrug. Hoping, praying to any listening god that there isn’t a weird flush in her cheeks at the way he talks. “Just needed some air.”

“Of course.”

He brushes a stray bit of hair from her shoulder — a passive, familiar touch that means her shiver has nothing to do with the outside breeze — and in his smile everything seems alright again. He’s just one of those people blessed with a disarming charm.

“A-_hem.”_

Katherine’s fake cough doesn’t fool anyone. Draws Adrian’s attention away from her and to their guest. It’s an irritation Nadya’s only seen on his face a few times in the months they’ve known each other but it doesn’t settle well regardless.

“Can I help you?” 

Katherine looks at Adrian the way all women look at Adrian: like he’s a prize. Her eyes comb through the polished shield of him and linger on his face with predatory accuracy. 

“Well you’re kind of interrupting girl time, so —”

“_Katherine,”_ scolds Nadya in a single word, “this is my boss.”

“Hm. I see. Well hello, _boss.”_

The tension doesn’t dissipate. Fight-or-flight mode kicks in and leaves Nadya looking between them frantically. “Erm… Adrian, this is Katherine. We met on the floor. Katherine, this is my boss: Adrian Raines.”

If she had seen him only as a hot man in a suit before, now she knew his name — and it shows. Something changes in Katherine’s stance — all ease gone. But rather than focusing her energies on Adrian, her eyes flick to Nadya — suddenly hot under the collar.

“W-What? Something on my face?”

“No, sweets, you’re perfect. Just… small world, it turns out.”

Nadya frowns. “What do you mean?”

When Katherine and Adrian shake hands they meet eye-to-eye. She catches sight of their white knuckles and wonders why they’re trying to have a competition over a handshake.

“Well I’m obviously not here because I like the crowds, kitten,” Katherine speaks to Nadya but her eyes remain trained on Adrian, “since the real reason I’m even here is to meet with, well, _you_ Mr. Raines.”

She doesn’t give Adrian the chance to ask, “I’m Ms. Sayeed’s private contractor.”

That invisible brick wall slots into place with a thundering silence. Locks Nadya on one side and Katherine on the other — Adrian caught with her. She can’t remember a time she felt so invisible, so utterly removed from a moment in time. It makes her sick to her stomach.

Adrian’s voice is low when he finally replies. “We’ve been waiting for you for over an hour.”

“I showed up, didn’t I?” quips Katherine. 

“Not a very good way to impress your potential employers.”

“If it’s my punctuality you want, and not my skills, then you hired the wrong girl.”

“Perhaps we have.”

The silence is considerable before, within seconds of one another, Katherine and Adrian remember they aren’t alone. Adrian looks to her, flustered, but Katherine’s cool is never-ending. 

“I’ll catch you some other time, Nadya. Mama’s got business to take care of.” Her passing wink, easy to miss, is Katherine’s only farewell. 

Now the terrace seems stifling — the breeze blocked by all the things Adrian isn’t saying.

“I—well, you see…”

He stops when Nadya holds up a hand. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Adrian,” her sincerity is true; and thick enough to hide her hurt, “I’m just your secretary after all.”

If he says anything she doesn’t stick around long enough to hear. The heat of the bodies milling around the photographs makes her skin crawl but Nadya forces her way back into the event like nothing strange happened. Like _strange _isn’t her life’s new normal. 

It would have been nice for her to turn and see Adrian following her through the displays — a silent apology was better than none at all. But a brief glance over her shoulder tells a different tale. Across the room she catches the sight of Katherine’s shock of violet hair and the pretty mauve of Kamilah’s dress. 

_Probably something you don’t want involved with anyway,_ she tells herself.

Nadya continues on.

The event starts winding down around one in the morning — she suspects half the guests have secondary parties already plugged into the navigators of their limos. She walks around the emptying gallery for half an hour; partially enjoying the fact that she no longer needs to look at the pieces from a distance but also on the hunt for Adrian, Kamilah, Katherine, _anyone. _

Two laborers are in the middle of dismounting the purchased photograph of the Highlands when she gets Adrian’s text.

[TEXT]: Had to move a business discussion to Ahmanet Financial.   
Car waiting outside to take you home whenever.   
Sorry for leaving you high and dry.   
I’ll make it up to you Monday.   
Promise. 

Sincerely, Adrian.

At first his official-sounding texts — which he always signed ‘Sincerely, Adrian’ like he forgets assigned contacts are a thing — were funny, charming even. Now she just looks at his name in LED pixels on her work-issued phone and wants to throttle him. Not for abandoning her — okay, maybe for abandoning her — but also because it seems like a cathartic release of her pent up frustration.

But making her way to Ahmanet Financial, which was hella far across town, would cost her energy she simply didn’t have. Wouldn’t life be nice if she could buy energy packs like in Lily’s games…

Just like Adrian said there’s a car waiting right in front of the Gallery when she makes it to street-level. Like, _right _in front — she doesn’t even want to think about how long he had to wait or the fights he had to get into for such primo vehicular real-estate. She recognizes the driver — Benjamin, William, Robert, something old-fashioned like that — from late nights escorting Adrian to the car for his meetings outside the office. The familiar face relieves her in a way she wasn’t expecting.

Maybe-Benjamin smiles and opens the back door for her. “Have a good time this evening, Miss Al Jamil?”

She glances back at the looming figure of the Gallery; now ensconced in shadow and the faint lights of buildings on either block. It looks like a dead thing stuck in the middle of a party. Like taxidermy. 

“I’ll get back to you on that.” 

He closes the door behind her. The darkness is warm, inviting. Nadya throws propriety to the wind and lays down on the buttery black leather seats. She’s out before they pull away from the curb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the cameo! Katherine will be returning later on in the series, as well as have a primary role in the next _Oblivion Bound_ story. Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you.


	3. The Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone said nothing good would ever come of falling into an online video rabbit hole. Unfortunately for Nadya they were right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note on the Update Schedule (08.01):** In order to catch up with what I have already posted on my writeblr, I will be posting _one chapter a day_ here on AO3 for this week only. From then on regular chapter updates will be scheduled for _Wednesdays_, but should anything change I'll post a warning at the end of the last posted chapter.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read and expressed your excitement for Nadya and this fic so far. It's been incredibly inspiring! 
> 
> **chapter trigger warnings:** language

She doesn’t see hide nor hair of Katherine in the days following the Gallery, and can’t help but suspect that’s kind of the point. Adrian doesn’t mention her name, her presence, or the fact that he essentially ditched Nadya at an event full of strangers to conclude whatever business he and Kamilah had with her.  


He does make it up to his secretary just as he said. When he picks her up Monday evening there’s a sample box of gourmet cronuts from a news-featured local bakery with a reservation line as long as the one to get a photo on the bridge where King Anton proposed to Princess Caoimhe. Before she can message Adrian what he wants for dinner on Wednesday there’s an email from security downstairs about a food delivery — which just so happens to be from one of the best Brazilian steakhouses in the city. And just when she doesn’t think he could be any more impressive (or desperate for forgiveness) he sends her off Friday near-dawn with front-row tickets for her and Lily to Saturday’s evening performance of _On Summit Blackspine. _

“No — nope, no freakin’ way.”

With his hands in his pockets Adrian is like a wall of generosity. He simply won’t take it back. “I insist. You two were looking at tickets anyway, right?”

“Well, yeah,” she splutters, acts like she has no idea how to hold two small pieces of paper, “but we were looking at tickets, like, a year from now, and… way _way _up in the nosebleeds!”

Adrian completely disregards her protests; even when they start to venture into ‘why were you listening to my lunch break phone call’ territory. He doesn’t seem somber — like he’s genuinely repaying some sort of debt — at all. In fact she’s never seen anyone look so excited about something they won’t be partaking in. 

He joins her in the elevator ride down but doesn’t have any of his usual things. He’s staying late but won’t hear a word of her offering to keep him company. 

Before the revolving door separates them Nadya plucks up her courage and turns on her heel to look Adrian in the eyes. He startles back, but his composure is never more than a hair’s breadth away.

“You know you don’t _have _to do anything, right?” It’s as sincere as she can make it; any more emotion between them and she might as well be bawling into his tie.

“What do you mean?”

She groans in protest. “Adrian, you know exactly what I mean. All this _stuff —”_ her gesture is open, vague, but he’s a smart guy, “— and whatever you have in mind about _making it up to me._ You don’t have to do any of it. Please tell me you understand that. I mean it. I need to hear you, like, verbally say it.”

He laughs in that familiar kind way of his; even puts on a squared jaw and teasingly stern frown when she swats his arm. 

“I understand, Nadya, I do. But I can’t help it. I left you on your own most of the night, and didn’t even tell you when I was leaving. Just let me do this, please?”

Eventually his kicked-puppy eyes break her resolve, but only just. “Fine. But this is _it,_ Raines. No more apology gifts.”

“Alright, alright! No more. Though returning the Maserati might be an issue…”

Nadya’s heart falls into the pit of her stomach. “The _wha —”_ But Adrian’s awful at hiding his smile, even worse at hiding the shit-eating grin it grows into, and though he could probably dead-lift her without a second thought she hopes the numerous smacks she wails on his arms do _some _kind of damage.

He waves her off, calls out “Tell me all about it Monday!” and she’s the one left watching him retreat back into the building. 

While riding the subway Nadya’s thoughts wander — and not for the first time either — to whether or not other Manhattan secretaries had such eccentric bosses. Doubtful.

There isn’t time the next night to think about Adrian’s oddities — all thanks to Lily. If she spent the whole evening worrying about work and why her boss was so nice it was a guarantee that her roommate would use any physical force necessary to snap her out of it.

“I can’t believe you had all day to catch up and you spent it rewatching _AME!” _

While they certainly aren’t dressed up to rival those she’d seen at the Gallery, Nadya and Lily are still the best-dressed things to grace the subway in a long time. Nadya had been ready to call a rideshare until Lily so graciously reminded her how expensive drinks and snacks were likely to be at the show — and they already had subway passes. 

“The stage show debuted last year,” Nadya argues defensively, “it’s not like they’re gonna edit the script for every new episode that airs.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m _pretty _sure.”

They compare notes of knowledge and trade fan-theories on the ride; every time Lily riles herself up over the book plots Nadya has to pat her shoulder and remind her to use her subway voice. It may have been way too much for Adrian to spend on someone who managed his datebook but she couldn’t deny how much she missed hanging out with her best friend.

_“Check it out,”_ Lily whispers in her ear, and Nadya turns her attention away from the seating chart above the door to the sight of Lily’s dress shirt unbuttoned and spread _Superman_-style; revealing her collector’s edition _The Crown and the Flame_ book-cover tee; a memory from their first Christmas together.

It sends them both into fits of giggles — the attendees around them may be averse to laughter and joy but they certainly were not. The doors open soon after and they take their seats — smack dab in the middle of the front row. 

The lights dim, the curtains part, and all the reviews Nadya read about how ‘difficult and underwhelming it was to bring something filmed on-location and with tons of CGI to the stage’ can go shove it because the Five Kingdoms are _beautiful._

Lily steals her phone Monday afternoon for a quick text. Nadya doesn’t think much of it — they’ve lived together long enough with little boundary — until she’s about to go down and wait for Adrian on the curb but instead he’s blocking her path in the doorway.

“Uh…?” The confusion doesn’t last long — not when Lily practically assaults Adrian with one of her signature bone-crushing, spine-deforming, lung-shrinking hugs. She praises a litany of gracious thanks so fast she’s out of breath before Nadya can pull her off. 

To Adrian’s credit he’s not phased in the slightest — back again with that silly grin. “Well that solves my mystery,” presenting his phone screen to them both, “because when I saw how the text was signed I thought you confused me for someone else.”

When she takes the phone and spots the ‘xoxo’ signed at the bottom of Lily’s request for Adrian to meet her at the door, Nadya’s cheeks burn scarlet.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“I figured.” Though Lily doesn’t seem ashamed in the slightest. “I just wanted to thank him in person. I had the chance, so I took it.”

“I take it that means the show lived up to the hype?” Adrian looks between them eagerly; and even Nadya relents and nods. 

“It was amazing.”

“They had a _full. sized. dragon puppet._ Of course it was amazing!”

* * *

They’re running an hour late — Adrian insists it wasn’t any trouble but when Lily’s highlights became ‘recounting the show scene-for-scene’ Nadya _had _to get them out — but even the CEO’s reassurance falters when the elevator door opens to Nicole standing tersely in front of his office door.

All these months and she still doesn’t understand the dynamic between Nicole and Adrian. He’s her boss, both their boss, yet sometimes it feels like Nicole is the one ordering him around, keeping him on task — a feeling curiously accompanied by her presence in the general vicinity.

Today is no different. Her frown turns into barely-expressed rage as she looks between them. If she held her files any tighter there might be nail-shaped punctures in the paper.

“You’re late.” Nicole gives a terse click of her tongue and strides between them — parts them physically — towards the waiting elevator.

Adrian glances at his watch. “Not by much. It’s not as though Lester is clamoring to see me.”

“A certain degree of professionalism is required when handling… delicate matters such as these.”

While they argue, Nadya starts slowly inching towards her desk. Tries to make as little noise as possible as she lowers her purse down and starts taking out her work. Either it works or she’s suddenly magic because they continue to bicker on as though they’re alone up in his office.

“I don’t know anyone in the world who would call Lester Castellanos _delicate,_ Nicole.”

The elevator door tries to close behind her but her heel wedges in the gap and forces it open. It feels like a metaphor to Nadya.

“You know very well that’s not what I mean.”

Adrian raises an eyebrow. “Then what _do _you mean?”

There’s no questioning the spiteful look Nicole flashes behind him. Gaze pinned straight on Nadya with a crinkle in her otherwise perfect mask of stone-cold witch.

“Not here. Downstairs.”

She’s a little more than half surprised that Adrian doesn’t pull the cinematic-cliche _‘anything you need to say, you can say in front of Nadya’_ line. But it wasn’t a full surprise — there were just some things she wasn’t privy to yet. The fact that she knew as much as she did with less than a year under her belt was astonishing to say the least.

Instead, Adrian casts half a look over his shoulder. His eyes not quite meeting hers. 

“Very well.”

Then they’re both standing in the elevator — Nadya watching it close from the other side. 

It’s either a trick of the LEDs or Adrian looks apologetic before the door shuts with a soft _ding._

Lunch — the midnight version of it — rolls around and Nadya tries not to seem so obvious in how she sneaks glances at the lift. Hoping, _willing _it to open. It’s almost maddening. Almost; until she replays the pair’s confrontation for the umpteenth time in her head and catches something she missed before.

Her fingers fly across her keyboard; pb&j abandoned in front of her. 

_Lester._ She knows that name; can still hear it in Adrian’s voice clear as day.

_“What have you contributed, Lester?”_

The browser isn’t even finished loading her results when the unease settles in. What was once a tightly-wound ball of panic that kept her from even looking in Adrian’s direction had dulled, yes, but somehow that just made things worse. There had been a chunk of time in which she really considered Adrian might be involved with killers; or that he may very well be one himself. His charm wasn’t the only thing that disarmed her — because Adrian’s charm didn’t have the same luster it did when she first started working for him.

Nadya remembers the smile he gave her as he reassured Nadya over her interview jitters. It was something easy, practiced. It was easier to fake something around someone you didn’t know — that’s how she’s lied her way through the confidence to report directly to such an important member of the industry. Now — things changed; well hadn’t they? From daily drives to silly quips hiding behind a chocolate fountain. They’d grown close.

Somehow she hopes that means it’s harder for him to lie to her. It’s certainly harder for her to see him as a murderer. Kamilah Sayeed, on the other hand…

Lester Castellanos looks exactly like a man _named _Lester. Either his mother was psychic or he decided to grow into a name that oozed lecherous intent. Right off the bat a few clicks here and there on her screen outline his meat-packing company (along with several FDA violations and one unionizing strike three years ago) and how his ‘father’ ran it before he took over after Y2K. Only there aren’t any photos of Mister Castellanos with his father… or without him, actually. Plenty of local news rags have snapshots of him with a pretty (paid) girl on each arm; coming out of a Lacroix spring debut, donating to Senator Vega’s reelection campaign, having some small branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art named after him for his generosity. 

Nadya’s _so close_ to giving up — to associating Adrian and Lester as businessmen of the same tycoon-ishness — when a grainy streaming rabbit hole catches her eye. Not that she’d ever admit she was looking so intently but _that _maroon pantsuit? Hard not to recognize.

_Probably doesn’t help that she’s had more than a few dreams about it…_

It’s been ages since she’s watched anything that wasn’t taken on some form of camera phone. But the date stamp in the corner and the slight lag between audio and visual definitely mark this as a remnant of the bygone VHS-era. Probably when Lester was inducted in as CEO of his company.

_There._ She spends what feels like hours pausing, rewinding, dragging the player to a specific spot and having to time her two-fingered assault on the keyboard _just so_ but the victory is sweeter than she could have imagined. 

Behind Lester’s flouncy gestures for some speech about bringing ‘old industry’ back to Manhattan — the flicker of maroon. And beside Kamilah’s pixelated waves of dark hair stands a figure two heads taller and with cheekbones definitely made to exist in the time of high-definition photography; distinctive even from a distance.

Adrian’s grainy figure leans down and whispers something in Kamilah’s distorted confidence. Maybe she laughs; maybe she frowns. She doesn’t look away from Lester’s speech.

And in the corner: [03 JULY, 2001]

An uncharacteristic calm falls over her. Maybe she’s done enough freaking out for the day — or over Adrian Raines, for that matter — and she’s numb to new information. She deletes her browser history — doesn’t think it’ll do much good if anyone really wanted to see what she was looking at — and clocks back in. Loses herself in the work. For once in Nadya’s life the mindless, soul-sucking tedium of an office job is a good thing. Doesn’t really need much brain power, makes it so she doesn’t pay attention when the lift door dings and Adrian returns from his meeting with a slump in his shoulders.

That is until he looks over her shoulder.

“You’re already working on the MacCombe spreads?” He sounds surprised.

“I finished all those return calls—here —” she hands him three neon-pink post-its with different names and dates scribbled on them, “— don’t worry about memorizing them; I’ve updated your datebook with the appointments. Though _this _one, Volenti, is a lunch at some rooftop Italian place, so I’d avoid the morning coffee.”

She expects him to pay it all little mind. After all, this is what he’s paying her for: clerical nonsense, not to be his friend and a pesky detective on the side.

But Adrian’s all about subverting expectations; plucks the note from her fingers and frowns at the time.

“I can’t make it that day. I’m booked up all afternoon.”

Nadya quickly pulls up both his digital datebook and brushes aside an open folder to the desk calendar she has color-coded to the nines. Even Adrian’s eyes widen at the sheer mess of her incoherent organization.

“Uh, no you’re not?” Which isn’t so much questioning her boss as questioning her own appointment-making skills.

“I am. Tell Mrs. Volenti she’ll need to change it to a dinner reservation.”

“Well maybe we can squeeze—”

_“Nadya.”_

She looks at his face for the first time since he returned. When Adrian realized ‘professional personal space’ wasn’t really her forte — a habit picked up from living in close quarters with Lily, no doubt — he started testing his own waters until it wasn’t uncommon for both of them to just reach over one another without a second thought.

He takes up that personal bubble, now; towers over her in a way that makes Nadya shrink back in her chair slightly.

She’s never heard that sort of tone from him before. Harsh, cold, almost _mean._ Nadya shivers.

The hard look in Adrian’s eyes softens instantly. His tone stays firm.

“Change it to a dinner reservation. And book me up for office calls that day.” Then, as if their friendship is an afterthought; “Thank you.”

His office door closes behind him absolutely silent — she can just imagine him being as delicate as possible with the creaky old wood.

Nadya takes a few minutes to collect herself in her personal bathroom. She emerges, still counting down from one hundred, and grabs the note with Volenti’s number to reschedule.

* * *

“BOOM! HEADSHOT!”

Nadya looks down at her pint of ice cream with a grimace. No matter what the commercials said, they were liars: lactose-free ice cream was a crime against humanity.

“Did you _see _that? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t replicate that move if I tried.” Lily talks half to herself half to her one-person audience as she studies the controller in her hands. She brings it close and strokes her thumb over the joystick.

“Tell me your secrets… please?”

The controller vibrates — makes Lily scream in response. Then a horde of zombies swarms in on her character on the television screen and she scrambles to return to diligent gamer-mode.

Maybe time passes, or maybe Lily suddenly has the ability to teleport. Both options are equally likely as one minute Nadya successfully tunes out the groaning roar of digital catastrophe and the next Lily’s plucking the barren spoon from dangling awkwardly in her mouth.

_“Hello?_ Ground control to Al Jamil; can you read me, Al Jamil?”

It takes Nadya a moment to blink away a sluggishness she didn’t know she had.

“You say something, Lil’?”

“I mean,” she seriously thinks it over, “nothing more than my usual gaming banter — which is still worthy of an epic quote-book. How was your trip to Planet of the Mush-Brains?”

Crouched in front of Nadya’s armchair, Lily steals a bite of melty ice cream — cringes at the lie that is ‘lactose-free’ maple pecan but forces herself to swallow it.

There’s a quip about the squishy mess that would be planet Mush-Brain on the tip of Nadya’s tongue. Instead she looks down at her half-reflection in her roommate’s smudged glasses and erupts in gooseflesh.

“Can I ask you something weird?”

“Weird on a scale of…?”

“Weird.” Nadya confirms. Lily grins.

“You fuckin’ bet.”

There’s a pause where she breathes in deep, tries to process the words about to come out of her mouth, and she goes for it.

“Do you believe in vampires?”

They’ve lived together long enough now to go through all the theories, discussions, and conversations generally reserved for the butt-crack of dawn or when midnight seems to stretch on forever. They’ve bought matching sleeping bags and sometimes have camping nights in the living room (though Lily is forever banned from buying candles — because sometimes ‘the aesthetic’ just isn’t worth possibly burning down an entire apartment building); laid head-meet-toes for hours and talked about the things that made them who they were; what they dreamed about, their genie wishes, and the things unproven that they still believed in anyway.

Vampires included.

Lily props her chin on Nadya’s knee and blinks slowly. She reminds Nadya of a cat sometimes.

“Sure,” she shrugs, “I guess. Are you talking about that video that went viral about that Norwegian metal band that said they drink each other’s blood before gigs?”

Nadya blanches. Some things should just never be said with a straight face. “No! What?! Who—where do you _find _these things?”

"The internet.”

“Right — I mean — no. Not Norwegians. Like… actual vampires.”

It’s stupid; ludicrous even. It’s not something she’s even going to go through the process of explaining out loud because some things even Lily might find absolutely bonkers. And she once went on a date with a Flat-Earther.

Maybe her roommate’s actually taking her seriously because she takes a long pause before answering. 

“Sure, I guess. Depends on what kind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what lore are we talking? And also, is this a sleeping bag situation?” 

Nadya wants to say yes. She wants them to push the coffee table aside and lay down together so she can vent every crazy idea she’s processing — and then some. But the room looks lighter than it did a few minutes ago and when she glances at the stove clock her heart sinks. 06:08 glaring at her in bright ugly red. Lily ‘Freakin’ Superhuman’ Spencer is no stranger to pulling all-nighters before work but Nadya has a feeling if she unloads now it might tempt her roomie to call out to stay by her side.

And while the company would be nice there was one thing she liked just a little bit more: being able to make rent.

“Nah,” she’s not convincing anyone, least of all her best friend, when she waves it off and jostles Lily onto her rear end by standing, “I was just thinking weird things.”

But now Lily’s caught the scent. Leans in sans personal-bubble as Nadya puts the melted ice cream away. 

“What kinda weird things? When did you start thinking them? Who made you think weird things?”

“It’s _nothing,_ Lil’.”

“Obviously not.”

“And you’re suddenly Sherlock Holmes…?”

“I _talked to my controller,_ Nadi’. And you didn’t stop me.”

“Well as long as you weren’t tonguing the joystick.”

“Ew,” Lily recoils, “you know I don’t do sticks. Stop changing the subject!”

But it was just enough to get Nadya time to slip out from under the gaze of nerd-glasses scrutiny; she’s already closing her bedroom door. Lily never _could _resist a lesbian quip.

“Good luck at work!” She calls, and leans against her door with a heavy sigh. Nothing’s stopping Lily from knocking until she answers, or more frighteningly; nothing’s stopping her from breaking into a rendition of the song from _Frozen._

But Lily respects her space. She’s just crawled into bed when she hears a call of _“See ya!”_ and the front door slamming shut.

She texts Adrian half an hour later calling in sick. She gets sick time, right? Of course he answers when she’s on the cusp of real sleep.

[TEXT]: Are you alright?? -Adrian

[TEXT]: yeah Lil gave me her cold. sorry. can I do it like this or do I have to call hr?  
[TEXT]: please don’t say I gotta call nicole

[TEXT]: No this is fine.  
I’m sure I can survive one day. -Adrian  
[TEXT]: Actually take a long weekend.  
See you Monday.  
Feel better.

It’s more than she asked for so why does something uncomfortable settle in her gut? She stares at the text chain, squints until her eyes begin to blur the words, and then it hits her.

No ‘Sincerely, Adrian.’ Whatever he’s doing this early (which, honestly she’s surprised since everyone has to sleep _sometime _but not him, apparently) has him occupied enough not to be, well, himself. And there’s a part of Nadya that feels like if she sends him a message asking about it he might very well respond. Her fingers hover over the buttons on screen long enough for her hand to prickle with pins and needles.

She turns off the ringer, tucks the device under her pillow, and forces herself to sleep.

* * *

They are grown-ups, thank you very much. They have grown-up jobs and grown-up bills and grown-up credit cards and checking accounts and monthly interest fees. And while most of grown-up life sucked a big one, having jobs that only operated during the business week was a small perk in a sea of ‘wait, I didn’t ask for this.’

Lily doesn’t bring up the ‘V’ word all weekend. They aren’t best friends for nothing — Nadya’s way ahead of her and _knows _when the questions itch on the tip of her tongue. Doesn’t help that Lily’s magically, totally spontaneously decided to bring out her old copy of _‘Blood Suckers 3: Fast-Forward’_ to brush up on her apparently rusty vampire-cyborg slaying abilities.

With a grocery-store pizza crisping in the oven and the tinny sounds of the cybernetically-enhanced undead wailing their deaths throughout the entire apartment things feel… normal. They feel like they used to. Before Adrian, before Raines Corp., before her internet browsing history was shamefully filled with the beginnings of research into the possibility that the creepy spookies might be legit.

There’s only one job that has followed the pair of them into grown-up life: knowing how to take care of each other. They were a bit rusty — but still got the stuff.

Lily’s eyes are glued to the screen, thumbs twitching on the joystick and slamming into buttons because hitting them harder made the little in-game avatar attack faster—obviously. Nadya can’t stop watching in amusement as she scoots, inch by inch, towards the edge of the couch in anticipation for this level’s boss battle.

“Die cyborg scum! For a third and _final _time!”

Any harder and she might actually break the triangle button. But Nadya doesn’t get time to warn her — not with the sudden shrill screech of the smoke detector. 

“The pizza!” She’s up in a flash — yanks the pie way from the heat where it falls lamely on the floor and spews blackened bits all over the tile. The alarm chirps on out of spite.

Nadya waves a dish towel at the collecting smoke — god she really loves Lily to death but the fact that she’s the only one picking herself up to do anything is frustrating to say the least. 

“Lil’! Open the windows! _Please?!”_

It’s enough to pull her roommate out of the distant and horrible year of 5048; then a mad dash to unlatch the fire escape window. Winter forces in like that time Lily thought they could rent out their couch space to gap-year European students. She’s chilly but effective in sucking the smoky air outside. Snowflakes flutter in but vanish on contact with the decades-old carpeting. 

Above them; the sudden _THUD THUD THU-UD_ of unfortunately all-too-familiar workboots. Then a shrill voice cuts through the aged plaster holding their building together by a thread.

_“What’s that awful noise?! Marty, stop stomping you fucking idiot! I’m tryna watch my show here!”_

_“It’s those dykes downstairs!”_ Marty’s delightful holler suddenly grows sharp — echoes from his open window to theirs, _“CUT THAT SHIT OUT! You ain’t takin’ us to Hell with you!”_

Like a holy sign the detector ceases; angry red blinking slowing down into green, false-alarm peace.

Lily glares at the white plastic in contempt. “Rude neighbors I can live with — but a homophobic smoke detector? Nu-uh. Where’s my bat?”

While Nadya tries to dissuade her from beating them into a replacement fine Marty resumes his best lumberjack impression above them. The hazards of living somewhere with rent security.

The bat may have just been a comic-con prop but there’s nothing comical about the slew of rusty nails sticking out of the business end at odd angles. It takes a solid chunk of time to talk her down, talk her into unleashing her aggression back on Lestat-meets-the-Terminator. 

After a bit of sleuthing — and with pizza crust char smeared on her cheek — Nadya holds out the culprit with all the conviction _Law and Order_ could teach: a chunk of the plastic wrapping melted into a gloss on top of a pepperoni.

“I’ll have to call the store in the morning.”

Lily snarls at her game with new vigor. “Why?”

“Because — we caught it. What if there’s a bad batch?”

“I mean, maybe. But you don’t know that.”

“Neither do they unless I say something.”

“So…” Hunger stakes both Lily and her boss battle; ‘PAUSED’ flashing on the screen in bright blocky letters while Lily pushes up her glasses, “no pizza?”

* * *

The air hurts her face. _Why did she willingly choose to live in a place where the air hurts her face?_

There’s definitely an open pizza joint a few blocks over — you don’t have enough money to geomap the entire world and lie about late-night pizza — but not only are people like Nadya one of the reasons food delivery services were invented, she’s just not as familiar with her neighborhood as she once was. At the moment she blames Adrian for that.

“Stupid ritzy lunch deliveries,” she mutters, keeps her lips moving and tries not to lick them and _ohp_—there it goes, now her lips feel like she’s well on her way to frostbite, “stupid fancy dinner hotels, stupid employee-only rooftop restaurant, stupid DiGeronimo’s plastic-riddled pizzas of _death.”_

She’s glad there’s no one around to listen to her muttered tirade. Some things a woman just has to complain about alone. 

“Why am _I_ the one out here anyway?” she asks no one in particular — the snowflakes picking up speed around her, maybe, “I can’t even eat the darn pizza! — Then again I was totally gonna eat the pizza. Hey, universe, if you’re listening, _I was gonna eat the pizza._ I was gonna be punished enough. So like… let up on the ice age, will ya?”

The universe doesn’t let up on the ice age. If anything it feels like the snow drift is picking up speed. Flakes turn to fat droplets on her glasses that distort the world around her. Cupping her hands over her mouth does no good — can’t exactly see with fog over her lenses.

Huddled under the drooping awning of a closed bodega, her shaking hands fumble around for her phone and the map. _“Nooo…_ how did I end up on the wrong side of the friggin’ park?!”

_Lily will wait for her cheesy delight,_ she decides — kicks the sticky snow from her boots and trudges across the street towards the park entrance, _she will wait until I’ve regained feeling in all ten fingers and all ten toes and not a minute before._

It’s all very _Every Crime Serial Ever._ Literally, Nadya swears she’s seen at least a dozen winter-themed episodes start with a young woman taking a shortcut in a dark park. But there’s more on the line than empty stomachs and another night of instant ramen now. Now; it’s a point of pride. It’s about making it out into the storm and returning, victorious, from the highest peak with tales of wonder and mystery. 

So she keeps to the snowed-over pathways even when the cold wet starts to seep into her thick fuzzy socks — keeps under the glow of lamp posts the city abandoned a long time ago where she can find them. Distracts herself with thoughts of delicious melty cheese and sneaking a few mushrooms onto Lily’s side before she gets back to the apartment — and wonders if the delivery driver might take pity on her poor frozen soul and drive her back to her block rather than making her return with a pizza-sicle.

That’s the problem with _expecting _something bad to happen, though. When you expect it you do everything in your power to not think about it — to not run around freaking out over every fallen leaf and garbage-diving raccoon. There’s definitely a difference between using smart caution and just straight up stamping down every bad feeling rolling around in your gut.

Nadya, unfortunately, is prone to the latter. Years of jeers and teasing and being called _irrational _will do their damage eventually — and for her they come together as the _knowledge _that she shouldn’t be doing what she’s doing but not enough _wisdom _to turn back.

There’s a loud _crash._ Nadya screams loud enough to warm up her insides. Her keys held tightly between each knuckle in self-defense on one hand and phone ready to emergency dial with the other. Fear creeps in at the edges of her vision; makes the darkness outside the safety of the lamp’s light appear alive, undulating, _thriving_ off her terror.

In the dark void between one lamppost and the next a hollow metal creaking grows closer—closer—_closer_—and she’ll never tell a living soul (that’s a lie, she’ll probably tell Lily when she stops having nightmares over this mess) but she might have accidentally unclenched her legs a _little _too quickly as an upended garbage can rolls a path through the fresh snow with the contents painting a trail behind.

_I’m a good citizen, dang it, but I wanna keep my fingers._ Because what horror movie starts with the victim being ripped to shreds while she’s saving the environment during a polar vortex? 

The distant Lily-adjacent voice in the back of her head quips something like _“holiday horror movies, duh!”_ but it’s too quiet — too soft over the sudden primal roar that carries on every gust of winter wind.

She’s cold. She’s afraid. There’s the strangest taste of almonds on the back of her tongue? 

Then everything is warm and dark. She briefly considers crawling out of bed to have Lily remind her to pack a lunch in the morning. 

Instead she welcomes sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately I'm a sucker for the in-game references to other _Choices_ books. So hope you enjoyed those little inclusions! Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you so much.


	4. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of information forced at Nadya all at once, but she finds expensive wine helps her cope better than usual. Oh, also, Adrian is a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** language, mentions of violence

Because it takes forever for the wine to pour into the glass — okay not really _forever _but longer than instantaneous, which is what she needs right now — Nadya decides to save herself the grief and lets her mouth catch it instead.  


It’s not a _good _wine. Well, it’s actually some expensive, twenty-something year old vintage from some remote place in Italy, which is probably the definition of good wine. But it’s a dry white and she’s always preferred her alcohol to be on the fruity side. Dry wine just makes her feel like an alcoholic jonesing for anything that will do. Even if it tastes like butt going down.

But of course the moment the bottle is empty she wishes it wasn’t. Gross or not, _having _alcohol is a lot better than _not _having alcohol.

She scans the wall until her eyes land on the speaker comm. near the door.

_“If you need anything, anything at all, just buzz okay? The staff are pretty good at meeting needs.”_ Adrian’s voice echoes in her head, throws itself around every corner of her skull and it reverberates like ripples on a pond.

_“My meeting won’t take long. It’s just… there are protocols for things like this. I’d rather stay here and make sure you’re all right, please believe that. But I might probably be the last person you want to look at right now. So… if you need me, just say my name on the comm. It’ll go right to me.”_

He left his jacket on the coffee table. Nadya plucks her feet up from the plush rug and tucks her knees against her chest. Like the wool might bite if she gets too close.

_No, not the wool. The vampire who owns it._

She wants to call Lily. Lily’s voice might make everything okay — or at least a little more okay than the very-not-okay she is right now. But none of her things — her coat, gloves, hat, _phone, wallet_ — are in the lush apartment. It’s almost kind of a good thing, after she thinks it over. Keeps her from making any stupid choices.

The sun’s over the man-made horizon of skyscrapers by the time the elevator door signals an arrival. Nadya’s watched the entire morning, transfixed, as the room gets lighter. Lighter, but not _too _light. Her eyes should burn staring at the star for too long but whatever dark film coats the windows keeps her safe.

_Safe._ Ha.

Each footfall on the marble floor is pointed; purposeful. Measured steps that demand to be heard. He doesn’t want to scare her; doesn’t want to sneak up on her. That’s her Adrian — always considerate, always going above and beyond.

Only it _isn’t _her Adrian, is it? It’s Adrian; but not a version of him that she knows. Makes her wonder how much of everything has been a lie.

_Does she even know the real Adrian Raines at all?_

“I brought you some coffee and a bagel from the cart downstairs.” She’s never thought of Adrian as a man parallel to the word _uncertain _but he sure sounds that way. Doesn’t mean she wants to look at him, though.

“I thought it best to call you in sick today,” he continues, “give you time to… you know. Process everything.”

She wants to thank him. She can’t — doesn’t stop from huddling in on herself in the chair pointed outward towards the world beyond. It was always big, she knew that. But now it just feels… well, it feels big, still, and now inside-out.

Finally — Nadya doesn’t know how much time has passed but Adrian stood there, behind her, the whole time — Adrian clears his throat and starts to retreat from the room.

“I’ll come back tonight. See how you’re doing. Please try and eat something?”

He’s giving her space but somehow it’s… infuriating. She doesn’t want space. She wants ignorance; blissful ignorance.

The elevator opens. Nadya’s voice feels foreign in her own ears.

“Make sure Lily knows I’m okay?”

Her voice can’t be more than a whisper but Adrian hears it across the apartment. She doesn’t even question it — just another one of the things about him she didn’t know.

“Will do.”

“And don’t… don’t tell her.”

“I won’t, Nadya.”

She hesitates; doesn’t speak until she’s sure the doors have closed and Adrian’s on his way up (down?) to his office.

“Thanks.”

As promised Adrian returns that night. There’s a few bites out of the bagel but the coffee remains cold and untouched. He glances in the kitchenette and sighs at the four empty bottles placed in a neat little row on the countertop. One dry white — three sweet reds.

With her generous amount of free-time Nadya’s spent most of the day thinking about similarly shocking events in her life; something that might have any _possible _weight like this. There was finding out she was adopted — pretty earth-shattering but it didn’t change her relationship with her mom. Then there was walking in on her boyfriend of two years with a girl she remembered once partnering up with in their biology 101 — that, too made it feel like her life was ending but she got over it.

Naturally she’s come to the conclusion that _no;_ nothing will ever compare to nearly being torn to pieces by a creature from a Stephen King novel one minute and being rescued by her boss the next. And then finding out that said boss was actually a vampire.

“Are you just gonna lean against the wall all night?”

Adrian masks his surprise well when Nadya looks up his way. She tucks her legs underneath herself on the sofa and gestures to the empty cushion beside her with a nod.

“You — really, you’re sure?”

Sometimes he’s so stupid that it makes her head hurt. Was that a thing; did you become immortal at the sacrifice of your common sense? It would fit a _lot _of pieces into the proverbial puzzle.

“You wouldn’t have come up here if you didn’t hope I’d wanna talk about it, so…” Another gesture. This time Adrian sits. He’s stiff, postured. Nadya tries to remember if he was always like that or if he feels like he no longer has to pretend.

There’s nothing but tense silence and the repeated drumming of Adrian’s fingertips on his pants. Then he stands — fast, but not inhumanly so, still makes her jump — and makes his way to the kitchenette while muttering to himself.

“We should get you some water. That much alcohol — you shouldn’t be intoxicated for a conversation like this. Have you eaten anything else? You need something in your stomach. Toast, maybe…”

When it’s apparent he’s not returning Nadya joins him. Takes a few hesitant steps on jelly-filled legs and curls her toes at the cold tile beyond the rug but eventually makes her way to the bartop seats where he pulls open a linen curtain to reveal themselves to one another.

He doesn’t miss the hurt in her eyes. She doesn’t miss the regret in his. It’s one of those moments film critics would call _‘sexually charged’_ but in reality is anything but.

“‘M not drunk,” she says; not unlike every person unaccustomed to copious drinking ever, “see?”

Adrian stops with two slices of bread between his fingers. “What am I supposed to be ‘seeing,’ exactly?”

Her nose scrunches up in a small frown. “I’m balancing on one foot.”

“Sure you are.” He makes sure she is steadfastly attached to her stool and resumes his goal.

Yes, her head is swimming in a sweet-red sea, but who wouldn’t need something to take the edge off when faced with learning the reality you thought you knew wasn’t actually reality, but a _fake _reality, and a _real _reality existed and was much, much worse?

“Don’t think of it so much as a fake reality,” Adrian replies, “as… a curtain in the world. And we keep the bad things behind the curtain as best we can.”

_Did she say that out loud?_

A plate of dry toast cut in triangle-halves slides in front of her. “Yes, you did.”

He waits until she’s midway through the second slice to speak again.

“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out Nadya — please believe that. I… if I had my way you wouldn’t have found out at all. I went to great lengths to keep you _very _far from anything so much as tangentially associated with… my other work.”

The toast scratches her throat as Nadya swallows.

“You wanted to keep me in the dark.”

“Yes; for your own safety.”

“An’… And last night? Wasn’t so _safe _then, was I?”

There’s accusation in the slur of her words and it makes Adrian recoil. She wants to apologize out of habit and forces more toast into her mouth to avoid it.

Finally, Adrian nods. “You’re not wrong.”

There are so many questions — too many, it feels like — and not enough time for Adrian to answer them all. Like she’ll grow old, wither, and die before everything makes sense. Why couldn’t it ever be as easy as it was in the movies? Why was this such an impossible thing to accept?

When Nadya finishes her toast Adrian takes the plate and gives it a rinse in the sink; leaves it on a drying rack overhead. It’s the most domesticity she’s ever seen out of him.

“D’you live here?”

He doesn’t break stride to answer — coaxes Nadya out of her stool, waits until she can stand without swaying in a nonexistent breeze, and brings her back to sit in the main room. “No, well — it’s mine but I only use it if I leave work too late. Or if there’s a guest in need of it.”

“Too la—oh.” Nadya answers her own question without help. Curls back up on ‘her’ side of the couch and brings a rough-hewn decorative pillow to her chest. “The sun.”

When the air around them has grown more liquid, when their usual familiarity permeates the space despite Nadya’s attempts to keep that well and tight to her chest, Adrian turns slightly towards her. Gives her his full attention and stops pretending otherwise. His arm thrown over the back of the couch, one leg propped on his knee; they could be talking about the weather for how relaxed he is. It frustrates Nadya to no end.

“If you don’t have a place to start…”

“I don’t.”

“Okay,” he nods resolutely, “then I’ll go. My name is Adrian Raines. I was born in 1753. I’ve been a vampire for over two hundred years.”

It doesn’t make everything okay. Everything is very _not _okay. But hearing his confession doesn’t hurt. Actually, Nadya finds herself relaxing slightly. He’s brushing the lies aside.

“I’m a member of what we call the Council; six vampires — leaders in our fields, I guess you could say — that make and enforce the rules of our kind here in New York. Each Council member leads a clan, and in that clan there are 29 vampires underneath us by law. That way we, _ahem,_ we can keep the city in control.”

Adrian adjusts his tie; fiddles with the knot before tugging it over his head in frustration. It falls on the floor at the foot of the couch. “It’s been this way for decades — New York under our thumb, I mean. It was necessary when America was expanding at a rate we almost couldn’t keep up with. And it’s been a good solution, until… recently.”

His voice falls flat. Every new fact spins in Nadya’s head like a bad carnival ride; throwing up a dozen questions and a dozen more each time he opens his mouth. But since she can’t decide on one she just listens.

“At the beginning of this year there were more reported Ferals wandering the city limits than the past decade as a whole.”

“Ferals?” Nadya doesn’t recognize her own voice, how it pitches with fear. New York was full of feral things; feral cats, feral rats, feral pigeons probably. But feral _vampires _weren’t so easily brushed aside.

“Yes, that’s what attacked you in the park.” Adrian answers her unspoken question. “Ferals are vampires without a Clan — without… well, here,” he starts unbuttoning his shirt and the suddenness makes Nadya shy away; until he shoulders off the fabric. He watches her carefully as she takes in what must have once been an angry, violently red scar but now only existed in the thinnest silver skin — a brand of sorts she’d never noticed before (well why would she, he’s usually very clothed and rightly so), “this keeps my consciousness, everything that makes me me, to my body. It keeps me from going —”

“Feral.”

“Yes.”

Like an out-of-body experience Nadya watches her hands take Adrian’s offered arm and cradle it gently. The scarred skin has puckered over time, only the barest ridges to outline it.

His hands are as cold as they’ve always been — but it feels as though she’s noticing it for the first time. There’s a pulse, faint possibly because she has no idea where to check for one, and in the quiet she can hear his breathing.

She looks up with a sudden revelation. “That’s why you started driving me to and from work, isn’t it?”

“Can you blame me for wanting to keep you safe?”

“You can’t keep the whole city safe.”

“No, but I’m trying my best.”

The throw pillow is a comfort as she resumes cradling it against her. It’s a lot to take in. If she hadn’t seen what she had… felt the hot, rotten breath dripping saliva on her cheek… she may not have believed him otherwise.

“So all these, uh, these _Ferals,_ they mean people are being Turned and not… claimed?”

“In a way. What they mean is someone is knowingly breaking the pact by which the Council was founded and that can’t stand. Not everyone cares about the danger to the citizens the Ferals pose; some only care about the exposure risk and what that might mean for our lifestyle here.”

“But you care.”

“I do. Kamilah does too, in her own way.”

_Kamilah._ Now Nadya has no trouble imagining _that _woman as a vampire. Well — she _is _one. And she looks it, too. No one could be so… inhumanly beautiful.

Adrian’s shoulders move in a light laugh; it startles Nadya out of her thoughts. “What? What’re you laughing at?”

“I just wish she was here to see your face.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“She asked why I hired you at the Gallery. She’d said something to the effect of,” and never again would Nadya like to hear his impression of his fellow vampire, if only because it was as embarrassing for them both as it was terribly inaccurate, _“‘a decent assistant requires a personality, which that lady lacks.’”_

She didn’t expect to feel flustered any time soon and gapes like a fish for something to say, to defend herself as though this wasn’t all from weeks ago.

“I — well — she just —”

“Hey, I defended you.”

She huffs. “You’d better have.”

“I insisted it was because you were taken by her. But Kamilah… she’s worldly in every way but towards herself.”

Nadya’s glare doesn’t stifle his amusement in the slightest and, overcome with a sudden need to flee but knowing she’d fall on her face if she tried, she reaches over and punches his arm without remorse. He doesn’t even pretend to flinch.

“Perhaps try and be a little less transparent next time?”

_Next time_ implies so many things; most of them Nadya doesn’t know if she is comfortable with just yet. But they had proven just then, together, that they could still have the same camaraderie as before. If anything she now had the opportunity to load herself with an arsenal of garlic-related puns. There is a visible ease in Adrian’s demeanor, too. They’d relaxed around each other and didn’t even notice.

Though her head is no less cloudy, Nadya puffs up her chest and brushes the mop of her hair away from her eyes. Looks Adrian right in the face and clears her throat as though she’s preparing to speak in front of hundreds instead of a lone man.

“So…” before she can even begin to falter Adrian offers a nod of encouragement and somehow it works; makes her try again, “So… I have a question. Or two. Maybe more.”

They talk until the sun starts to lighten the horizon. Until Nadya’s speech starts to sound a little more sober and then slurs again from exhaustion. Until she can’t keep her eyes open and the last thing she recalls is exactly how many currently sitting government officials are secretly vampires; which is apparently a number that should (and does) alarm her.

The digital clock on the bedside reads 18:44 when she drags herself back to consciousness. Still light-headed, she trades several frustrated words with the ticking seconds before she turns back over for another snooze. _Just fifteen minutes,_ she buries her face into the down pillows — ten times better than any hotel she’d afforded in her lifetime, _I’ll get up at the hour._

And when she doesn’t; when she wakes to the elevator’s bell and can see moonlight dripping through thick nighttime clouds, Nadya’s pretty sure — ninety-five, maybe ninety-eight percent — she’s dying.

“If I’m right in assuming you’ve never been to a wine tasting, I’ll have to get you to schedule one for us both. Wine that old needs to be savored — not put down like moonshine.”

Nadya can hear the smirk in Adrian’s telling-off; she’s never wanted to kill a man so much before.

“Lower… your voice…” she hisses, some eldritch horror balled up under a ratty mess of hair and the thudding of her college drum line on the squishy part of her brain, “or I’ll go _Buffy _on you.”

“Good to know you’re back to yourself. You should call your roommate.”

It’s a Herculean effort to turn around and face Adrian where he sits on the edge of the bed. But her reward of aspirin and a large bottle of water is totally worth it.

“I would,” she gasps after chugging the entire bottle, “if you’d give me back my phone. ‘M not gonna call the press about your big fangy secret.”

Confusion flits over Adrian’s face but he quickly understands. Nadya watches him reach over and open a drawer on the bedside table. There was absolutely no way that drawer had been there previously, because he pulls out her phone in a duh sort of way that leaves her feeling some kind of dumb. _No,_ she’s convinced, _he must’ve installed it during my coma._

Sure enough there are over one hundred texts from Lily all with the same effective aura of panic. Then she messages being contacted by Adrian and while the frequency of the panic subsides there’s a spike in offers of stalking, rescue missions, and a rather serious offer to call the police.

_Rich people think they can get away with anything, well, not on my watch._ She can hear it now.

[TEXT]: hey lil sorry about everything & 4 not getting back 2 u  
[TEXT]: I’m ok was mugged in the park by pizza & phone buttdialed adrian

Lily reads the messages instantly. The frowning emotion-icons are vehemently unamused.

[TEXT]: u dont expect me 2 believe that >:(  
[TEXT]: r u ok???  
[TEXT]: ready 2 fial 911  
[TEXT]: dial*

Before she can even think up a response the screen shifts and Lily’s ringing. The shrill ringtone is enough to make her head split back open and Nadya groans; hits the “REJECT” button.

[TEXT]: not now, big headache

[TEXT]: nadya I’m freaking out

After she runs a hand over her face an idea comes to mind. “C’mere,” she gestures to Adrian who awkwardly shifts forward on the bed. The angle is terrible and it would never see the light of her social media but the picture she takes of the pair of them should be enough to ease some of Lily’s tension.

[TEXT]: pic.jpg  
[TEXT]: c? I’m fine

She’s near ready to ask Adrian what will happen if the police arrive when Lily responds.

[TEXT]: get home asap. will borrow paper 4 new job  
[TEXT]: plz b safe  
[TEXT]: <3

Nadya sends a heart back and tosses her phone somewhere to be lost in the vast sea of king-sized blankets and coverlets. Adrian’s hand on her shoulder somehow feels like both a comfort and a burden.

“Are you alright?”

_Is she?_

“Yes,” a beat, “and no.”

To his credit, he acts like it’s an acceptable answer. “It can be a lot to take in. And usually… we don’t wait this long before debriefing. But there was a meeting and then you were intoxicated. So —”

All she has to do is hold up a finger. They’ve known each other long enough now that if it takes anything more then the problem at hand is much larger than Adrian’s making it out to be. She doesn’t even ask.

“Right, debriefing…” Says the word like it’s gone sour on his tongue. “It’s — well — you’re not the first person to stumble across this secret.”

_“Stumble?_ I’m pretty sure I did a little more than stumble. And it wasn’t even my fault.”

“True. But regardless — we’d have been outed centuries ago if we didn’t have measures in place. Measures to ensure we can stay in the dark.”

He’s strangely clinical as he says it. Like _debriefing _is some operation that everyone has to go through at some point in their lives. Maybe they do and she doesn’t even realize.

“Why do I feel like you’re using a fancy word for making me forget about all this?”

He smiles. “Because I am, and you’re incredibly astute.”

“Why bring it up now? Why not bring it up when I was losing my… well, my sanity _and _sobriety?”

Adrian shrugs. “As I said; I didn’t want to risk it when you weren’t sober. When you couldn’t…”

For a man who always has something to say he’s hesitating an awful lot. More than Nadya can stand. “Couldn’t what, Adrian?”

He opens his hand palm-upwards — an offering. To no one’s surprise she takes it. Immediately he begins to leech her warmth, but at the moment she doesn’t mind sharing.

“I wanted to be certain you could consent to it. Most who go through what you did — that kind of trauma; the violent entry into our world — they _want _to forget. They want to go back behind the curtain and return to a more peaceful life.”

“And a more ignorant one. And arguably more dangerous.”

“You don’t need to convince _me,”_ he chuckles, “you and I agree on that front. And because of _that,_ especially, I wanted to make sure you got the whole story before making your choice.”

_Before deciding not to go through with it._ He doesn’t have to say it. The words linger between them, unspoken and strangely not unlike a plea. Nadya can feel it in the way Adrian squeezes her hand. He wants her to remember. That’s why he took his time — eased her into everything — gave her space and whatever he thought she needed.

To his credit Adrian wasn’t _wrong._ All the time alone (paired with the wine, never forget the wine) was _helpful._ As his assistant it was Nadya’s job to make sure she knew some of the more quirky things about her boss, but along the way he’d picked up a few things about her too.

“What happens if I do it; get debriefed?”

He sighs heavily. “You’ll forget everything I’ve told you, and your attack. Likely Lester would set up a cover about the attack — if we really needed we could stage a criminal assailant.”

“That’s…”

“Involved? Sometimes it’s necessary.”

“Would I forget I ever knew you at _all?”_ Not only does the sheer potential of the power shock her, but it doesn’t sit right in Nadya’s gut.

“No, the debriefing doesn’t go that far back. But the best scenario would be your termination, a small severance pay, and help until you found a new job. This would just be another career that didn’t pan out and you’d go about your life better for it.”

“Who are you to decide what’s _better?”_ she asks; can’t help but get slightly defensive over choices being made _for _her, and not _with _her.

Adrian doesn’t answer, instead just gives her a nod. _I hear you,_ it says, _I agree._

“And since you’re going to ask… if you choose not to be debriefed, well, things will change, inevitably. You’ll have to be formally allied with my clan, Clan Raines, in the presence of two other Council members at least. Your work won’t change much — you already work nights with me. I’d probably take over your health care costs more than the company basics. Just in case, you understand.”

It brings the first genuine laugh from Nadya in days.

“Oh, I’d expect it. Would you, uhm, you know…” While Adrian tries to finish her thought, Nadya subconsciously scratches her neck.

“Feed from you?” He shakes his head vehemently. “While one of the Council pacts is to only feed on the willing, it wouldn’t be a—a _condition._ I’m not hurting for donors.”

“Oh, good. Talk about inappropriate workplace activities.”

“Indeed.”

The silence is hesitant; filled with uncertainties. There were so many new directions opening up in front of her but Nadya could see it all boiling down to one choice. One of two.

Adrian doesn’t get the chance to ask; his mouth closes audibly at her held up finger.

“I think you already know my answer.”

Outside the clouds part to reveal the soft glow of the moon. Adrian smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Update on 03.27:** The initial version of this chapter described Adrian's brand as somewhere on his wrist. This has been changed to reflect the canon location on his upper arm. However, the description of a burn _(rather than a tattoo as canon states)_ will stay consistent with the lore of this story.
> 
> Not exactly how it went in the book but I really wanted to focus on establishing a friendship between the pair. To me it made the reveal feel more intimate and important to the characters. Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you!


	5. The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out life with a big secret is pretty much the same as regular life. Only Nadya has to lie to her best friend a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to give my brief thanks because **Bound by Destiny** hit 100 visits this morning! I haven't even had this story out for a week and it's already at 100. Wow. Thank you so much. 
> 
> **chapter trigger warnings:** mentions of death, mentions of violence, cursing, brief gendered harassment

“And you are willing to accept the burden of _two _humans pledged to Clan Raines?”

“If one of them is up for grabs I’m _more _than happy to take this one,” Lester’s calloused hand runs up Nadya’s forearm; it’s physically impossible for him not to feel her disgust yet still he persists, “Adrian may have all the cool new toys but I assure you, sweet girl, you’ll be wanting a vampire with some years under his belt.”

She smacks his wandering touch away before it can get to her shoulder. It does little against his supernatural strength but he’s too taken aback. All three vampires are.

“Alright, first thing’s first, _never _call me that again,” she can’t even repeat the grossly infantilizing pet name without feeling like she’s dipped in grease and slime, so she just continues, “second, and this I _promise _you Mister Castellanos, you can be darn well sure I want _nothing _to do with anything even _near _your belt. And third —”

Lester recovers from his shock then; puffs up his chest and makes to stand from his chair.

“How _dare _you, little —”

“Let her finish, Lester,” Kamilah doesn’t have to raise her voice to grab their attention. She does so simply by being Kamilah. She meets Nadya’s eyes across the conference table and there’s an interested amusement hidden in their depths. Hidden in the slight quirk of her dark lips. “It’s about time someone put you in your place, after all.”

Lester’s face goes a frustrated shade of red. Kamilah taps her chin softly. “Continue. _‘And third?’”_

Nadya only hesitates to remember her train of thought before rounding back on the lecherous man. 

“And third,” she repeats, “I don’t care who you are, how much money or power or whatever that you have — if you treat me like that again I’ll make sure the only toy you get is a stake up the butt.”

The look she throws Adrian seeks forgiveness, not permission, but her boss is too stunned to speak. Instantly Nadya recoils, flinches away as if she’s a completely different person. The only thing that keeps her from her natural-born instinct to apologize is reminding herself how disappointed Lily would be.

And it wasn’t as though a creep like Lester didn’t deserve it. There was just the threat of ticking off a vampire that needed factoring in now. She sits in her chair and awkwardly scoots it closer to her boss’ side.

Finally Adrian addresses Kamilah’s question. “Yes, Kamilah; though I’d hardly call the pair of them a burden.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lester seems to be doing all he can not to spit, “she’s gonna be a handful. We should just debrief her.”

“No — she was given the option and declined. Lester, you voted _with me_ against forced debriefing.”

As the men argue Nadya steals a glance at Kamilah only to find the vampiress seemingly assessing her. Kamilah’s brow quirks slightly, _‘boys will be boys’_ it says, and she scribbles down something on a stack of papers in front of her.

Adrian’s patience finishes entertaining Lester’s complaints.

“I think this will be good for Nicole, as well. Take some of the pressure off of her back.”

Kamilah snorts softly. “Oh _indeed._ I look forward to hearing her thoughts on the matter.” She scribbles a signature and slides the papers to Adrian. “If you’re sure, and so long as you’ve weighed all of your options.”

“I have.” He replies.

“Then the sooner we finish this, the sooner I can get back to my _date~”_ Lester practically yanks the stack away from Adrian and signs with a flourish.

After Adrian adds his name to the bottom he offers the pen to Nadya. “The contract isn’t _legally _binding, but we’ve found it easier to keep certain things on our record. Part of immersing ourselves in the business field.”

She looks it over. Working for a corporation as big as Adrian’s has taught her a few things about the industry of _industry,_ but she’s still a novice at most of the technical language. The small print combined with the occasional phrase like _“for which the punishment is death”_ makes her eyes glaze and the contract blur.

“So I’m, what, signing my soul over to the Council?”

Adrian ignores the laughs of his colleague and places a hand on Nadya’s shoulder. “No. You can be debriefed at any time — though like I said the more time that passes the less we can completely erase. This is more just something we’ve had to do when it comes to humans being associated with the Council. For your safety and ours.”

Lester leans over with a smarmy grin. “In the old days we just branded you. Like cattle.”

It sends a shiver down Nadya’s spine. But a signature was better than a brand — right? She clicks the pen and signs her name carefully. Adrian beams with something close to pride. Takes the contract and hands it back to Kamilah who stores it in a shiny leather briefcase.

The vampires stand and Nadya rushes to follow. _That’s it?_ She thought there would be more ceremony to it — more morbidity. But apparently even supernatural business has joined the corporate mainstream. Adrian offers Lester his thanks but the portly man waves it off and leaves without a goodbye. Grumbles something under his breath that Nadya chooses not to hear a word of. Kamilah stays a minute longer; takes Adrian’s offered hand in a firm shake and tucks her hair behind her ear.

Remembering what Adrian said earlier that night, Nadya tries her very best not to stare openly.

“Thank you for this, Kamilah,” Adrian’s sincerity is almost saccharine, “I know things have been tense lately but I’m glad to know we still agree on things like this.”

“Oh Adrian, pet, I don’t agree with you in the slightest.”

“What?”

Nadya and Adrian stare at her — blinking out of sync but with equal measures of confusion. Like with everything else, that amuses her.

She continues, “I don’t think this is a good idea at all. But I also know you too well, and know that your mind is made up. You don’t reach my age without gaining a sixth sense about picking your battles. You can sign as many humans as you’d like to your Clan so long as they stay in line. Unlike Lester, I have the humility to admit that mortals have their uses beyond sexual favors and snacking.”

He looks ready to argue, but Kamilah makes up his mind for him. She bids Nadya a farewell nod and leaves them in a far more graceful fashion.

“So that’s it? One contract and a greasy perv and _boom,_ I’m in the secret squad?” Adrian holds open the door to their private elevator and Nadya hits the button for his office. It was like nothing had changed, though everything had.

Adrian shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, yes, that’s all you needed to do. Back in the old days —”

“How old are we talking?”

“Well, Lester had a rather big party for his half-millennium back in ‘09. Kamilah’s two millennium in but you won’t catch her celebrating anything.”

It takes a moment for the word _millennium _to process; leaves Nadya gaping. “She’s _two thousand years old?”_

“Yes, though surviving that long is rare — especially these days. Young vampires are reckless and fueled only by their hunger. They tend not to last long without Clans to protect and guide them. And with humanity’s unerring desire to exterminate itself in the last century… well, the older generation is considered a war casualty.”

It’s a lot for her to take in, and Nadya has a feeling if she was left in stunned silence every time Adrian casually brings up something incredible about vampires she might never speak again.

Adrian doesn’t break stride as he opens his office door and leaves her at her desk. She has to stop and take a moment to look at the thing before actually taking a seat. Everything is exactly where she left it when she clocked out almost a week ago but nothing is _the same._

“Something wrong?”

Nadya looks up to see Adrian leaning in his doorway. His lips turned downward in concern. He steps out and places his fingertips on the desk like it has something to say to him.

“No, no,” though she’s stiff, awkward as she takes her seat, “well… it just doesn’t feel real. Like, this is my stuff, but it’s also like a museum exhibit of my stuff.”

He nods as though he understands. Maybe he does — about as much as he can.

“And what would the exhibit be titled?”

It takes her a laugh and a moment to think. “Hm, I think _‘My Life Before Vampires’_ would work.”

“It’s a lot to take in. I would understand if you needed some time off.”

“No, no more time off,” and that Nadya is insistent upon, “better to just dive right in than let it fester. Unless you want a million texts with questions I could just ask you in person.”

There’s something about sharing that familiar moment that eases the tension; makes it so they’re both sharing soft laughter and when Adrian leaves her to her work this time around it looks more like _her_ desk again.

* * *

Getting back to a version of ‘normal’ at work is one thing, but trying to find that balance back at home proves a challenge.

Nadya’s content to act like nothing strange happened when she first arrives back on her doorstep. Being bodily mauled on by Lily’s concern, though, gives her a clue that she won’t be able to just let it go. Eventually Lily realizes _“I was mugged”_ is her story and she’s sticking to it, no matter how much she’s teased, poked, prodded, or bribed otherwise.

And after three weeks straight of the silent treatment, neither of them can take it anymore and they make up with a pizza (delivery this time) and homemade margaritas.

Everything else continues as it was. Adrian picks her up, they go to work, lunch is now spent together with a new list of questions that he answers with unerring patience, he drops her off. Nicole doesn’t take the news well — what little she saw of the woman before somehow diminishes. But Nadya won’t complain about a lack of frigid witch in her daily routine.

The most exciting thing she gets to do with her newfound induction into the vampire club is visit a Priya Lacroix afterparty. Woefully underdressed, she tries to keep the same straight face on that comes naturally to Adrian.

“I have some business to take care of in the back,” he gestures to a gilded door of glossy black paint and gold filigree, covered on both sides with a thick red curtain.

Nadya tries to peer inside as the door opens to let through a pair of giggling models; catches what looks like the high-arched back of a throne but nothing more.

“What’s back there?”

“Nothing you’d like.”

“I’m still trying to process this whole _Priya Lacroix famous designer and bloodsucker_ thing.”

Adrian looks around quickly and his frown is chastising, though hardly strong enough to be effective.

“Maybe we say that a little _quieter _next time, hm?”

The bartender taps Nadya’s shoulder and offers her a fizzy flute of champagne. Before she can decline, Adrian gestures for her to take it.

“Just try not to down four bottles of the stuff before I get back, okay?”

Her deadpan is _not _amused. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Not likely.” He’s already heading off, flashing something to the large man standing guard at the exclusive club door and stepping inside.

When Adrian returns — only a second glass of champagne later — there’s a grim frown set into his jaw. He practically rushes them out of the venue with little explanation.

She’s ready to ask about it — the question is on the tip of her tongue — but Adrian’s aura screams _do not cross_ and she knows when to leave well enough alone.

Her first (and so far only) time in the proximity of other vampires and she didn’t even get to meet one. Nadya has to hide her disappointment to avoid another lecture.

They say their usual farewells at the curb and Nadya kicks snowplow slush from her heels while she waits for Lily to answer the buzzer.

_“Dude, we ordered this twenty minutes ago! Are the dumplings even steaming anymore?”_

Nadya has to hold up and back off. She looks at the complex address first — yes it’s her building — and then double check she hit the right button.

Because the last time she checked Lily didn’t have a thick Spanish accent.

She buzzes their apartment again. The voice comes back with a vengeance.

_“My girl isn’t gonna pay for cold Chinese, so. Try again.”_

“Uh…” Nadya fumbles for what to say, “I live here?”

There’s static on the other end — and she’s really relieved to hear Lily’s static-filled laughter.

_“Sorry Nadi’! Forget your key?”_

“Yeah, I left it at the office.”

_“It’s gonna do you loads of good there. Buzzed you!”_

Whatever her subconscious was suspecting when she opened her front door — this isn’t it. Lily in her ‘I’m Going Out’ getup (which is the same as her usual clothes, only there’s typically more belts and bracelets involved) with her boots kicked off and leaning _very close_ to a woman with a bright blue head of hair and a devilish grin. They jam their fingers into the console handhelds like the fate of the world is at stake.

Lily doesn’t look up even when she closes the door a little harder than necessary.

“Oh! There it is!” Blue-Hair jumps and her tucked-legs catch her deftly on the couch — which creaks in protest. Lily joins — Nadya watches to make sure their secondhand-secondhand couch doesn’t collapse under the weight. Then they’re screaming, and shrieking, and Lily drops her controller and pumps her fists into the air in a victory dance only gamers know.

It’s like watching animals on the Serengeti do some weird mating ritual. Screeching, then hugging, then the silence of hot breaths when you realize you’re in close proximity with someone and _that feeling_ kicks in.

“Ahem.” Nadya clears her throat. Catches their attention in the brief silence. Lily jumps down from the couch and embraces her tightly.

“Sorry about that. We ordered Chinese —”

Nadya nods. “Like, twenty minutes ago?”

Lily’s grin is understandably sheepish. Her friend doesn’t wait to be introduced — leaps off the couch with ethereal grace and comes towards them with her hand extended.

“You’re the roommate I’ve heard so much about,” she looks Nadya up and down, then gives a nod of approval, “nice, nice.”

“And _I’ve _heard so much about _you…”_ before she can flounder for a name Lily saves her skin.

“Maricruz. ‘Member, I told you I was going to that Girl Gamer thing in the East Village?”

She does remember something about that — if vaguely. Maricruz wraps an arm around Lily’s shoulders and squeezes them together.

“How is it that even in a gay bar fuckboy gatekeepers will still find a way to be obnoxiously patronizing?” She and Lily laugh; some inside joke Nadya isn’t privy to, “I was real close to punching one in the face and getting the hell out of there and then who walks in but this angel.”

“We were the only W-L-W’s there, I shit you not.” Lily adds.

“Oh! Well… that’s, uh, that’s great,” Nadya cringes when Maricruz raises a dark eyebrow, “that you guys found each other, I mean.”

“Dude, Mari’s _amazing._ Her cousin’s girlfriend’s roommate knows a guy who works at one of the salons I was looking into, right, and _he _has an online hookup to the unreleased alpha of _The Crown and the Flame_ Thorngate DLC!” She looks at Mari with eyes that would give shelter puppies a run for their money.

Mari, to her credit, soaks up the attention _without _seeming to Nadya like a complete tool.

“Hey, I like to share the wealth with gamers who deserve it. Sapphic ladies get priority.”

“About time we did.”

“You know it.”

They dissolve into laughter again. Leaving Nadya pushing up her glasses, snow slush soaking into her nylons, feeling like the spare donut tire nobody ever uses. Suddenly _“I went to a Priya Lacroix show”_ doesn’t sound nearly as cool as their evening.

Lily double-takes, catches the slight fall of Nadya’s shoulders, and elbows Mari with a smile. “Nadya works for the head of Raines Corp, did I mention,” then, to Nadya, “What Wall Street shit did you get up to tonight?”

The three women migrate to the living room; Lily and Mari on the abused couch while Nadya relaxes in her bean-bag cushion. It’s pretty obvious half-way through recounting her experience with the door guard outside the show that the blossoming couple are only giving her half their attention; she’s just something on in the background.

There’s a brief knot of jealousy that tightens in Nadya’s stomach. But Lily deserves this — someone to spend time with. She deserves someone who doesn’t blow her off the way her ex did. And she deserves someone to spend time with that _isn’t _her best-friend-and-roommate. Sharing is caring; isn’t that what they say?

She claps to get their attentions; announces she’s going to change into something more comfy and when she returns they’d better be ready to give her a play-by-play of Girl Gamer Night. She tries to keep all sexual noises to a minimum while stripping off the second skin her nylons had become, and giving herself some space from the sudden _appearance _of Maricruz really does ease her jealousy away.

“Okay — so first remind me _who _decided to host…”

Nadya’s voice dies out as she looks around to one less body. Lily types something wicked-fast on her phone before hopping up to pull back the curtains. Early daylight isn’t terribly bright, but what streams through makes Nadya wince.

“Girl, this job is making you a straight-up vampire.”

She chokes on air. Lily waits until she’s breathing again to laugh. “Mari caught the time — she works across town so she dipped while you were changing.”

“But I wanted to hear about Gamer Night...” The petulant whine comes out without Nadya’s permission. Lucky for her Lily finds it cute.

“Don’t worry, _chica,_ you’ll hear all about it soon enough. I gotta go get ready — coffee me?”

“Will do—” they pass to trade places, but before Lily’s clear of her Nadya grabs her arm, “—hey, hold up—” and pulls her into a crushing hug.

“You good?” Lily can’t — or won’t — hide the twinge of worry. She hugs back nevertheless.

Nadya nods. “Yeah. Just happy for you. She’s weird, but I’d expect nothing less.”

“Oh my _god,_ it was _one date._ Not even!” They dissolve into laughter and Nadya feels a quick kiss to her temple before Lily’s off to get ready.

Nadya fills the coffee maker and the whole apartment starts smelling of espresso.

* * *

Adrian IMs her to come into his office. Nadya takes a second to finish her bullet point on a spreadsheet before knocking on the door. She hasn’t even crossed the threshold when he looks up with a smile that’s a little bit too wide for her to be comfortable with and says he’s changed his mind.

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes, yes — it’s nothing.”

“Okay…”

Ten minutes later he asks her to join him again. No hesitation this time — but the door’s only halfway open when he backs out.

“Nevermind. Sorry for bothering you. Do you have the Whitman report?”

Nadya frowns. “Almost done. You _sure _you don’t wanna tell me what’s up…?”

“Quite. Just email me when you’re done.”

It takes her twenty seconds to pull the door closed. Ample time for him to change his mind — but he doesn’t.

The third message Nadya doesn’t even see. There’s a _ping _from her computer and she whips open the door so hard her hair catches the breeze and her glasses go flying. Adrian startles; looks up from his screen to the frustrated figure wreaking havoc in his doorway.

“Nadya? Are you okay?”

She stomps to her glasses — made significantly less impressive by the sound-muffling Persian rug — and pushes them back up so hard her eyes see little spots of light. Continues stomping over to his desk and places both her palms flat on the wood to look him straight in the eye.

Adrian leans back slightly; oblivious. “Erm… Nadya?”

“What. do. you. want?”

He tries to make light of it, “Should you really be speaking to your boss that way?” but when it doesn’t lighten her mood he has the decency to look apologetic.

“Is this some weird vampire yuppie hazing ritual,” she’s serious, wants a genuine answer, “some game like _see how many times the human jumps when I say?_ Because if we’re trying to beat someone’s record, I’m totally down. But if you’re just messing with me I’ve got a bone to pick.”

Sheepishly Adrian shakes his head. “Not in the slightest. I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m sure you have work to do, so —”

“If you tell me _it’s nothing_ one more time, Adrian Raines…” She points a threatening finger at him. There was nothing more terrifying to a young Nadya Al Jamil than the threat of the _Mom Finger;_ the secrets of which had been passed along to her before she left for college.

Now, the true test of parenting authority was tested between species. They lock eyes and, breath held, Nadya watches with a victor’s delight as Adrian wilts. He gestures to one of the fancy chairs in front of his desk with resignation.

Nadya sits to recover from her awe. “I can’t believe that worked.”

When the vampire looks as though he’s about to question her Nadya jabs the finger at him again — makes him shut his mouth with a _click._

“Now — _talk.”_

Adrian’s not the type to waste time on something that isn’t important. He’s probably the most productive CEO in Manhattan at any given moment. He’s two hundred-something years old, and it shows. It shows in his confidence, in how he carries himself, and in the surety with which he does… _most _things.

So watching him fumble over his words — constant apologies, lack of eye contact, the way he paces around his office and makes Nadya wish she was part owl just to follow his movements — is uncomfortable to say the least.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do this, I _shouldn’t,”_ he repeats yet again, mumbles something to himself Nadya’s human ears can’t quite catch, “but I have no choice. That’s the awful part. But…”

He passes her chair and Nadya grasps his wrist; it’s enough to get his attention, to draw it out from the aether.

“Why don’t you actually _tell me what you need_ and I’ll decide if it’s too much or not?”

She’s put her frustration aside. Looks up at Adrian with honesty. Instead it just makes things worse.

Finally, and only with a whiskey in hand, Adrian tells the tale of ‘The Baron.’ And the more she learns the more Nadya hopes she never has to meet him. Mobsters are terrifying on their own — but making them immortal and hungry for blood just seems like a violation of the Geneva Convention. Or the vampire equivalent.

She raises her hand like a student in class; Adrian pauses and nods.

“So he’s a bad dude — I get that part,” she frowns, “but what I’m not getting is why the informational lecture? Is he coming here? Crap — should I have reserved a conference room?”

Adrian’s smile is wistful. “No — now, I promise this is related, just bear with me. Do you remember what _really _happened that night in the park?”

Gooseflesh runs down Nadya’s arms.

“When I was attacked, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“I… sort of?” Her voice strains. It wasn’t something she had to work hard to forget — thanks in part to the alcohol — but occasionally there were nightmares. Not that she told Adrian about that. Just a normal part of being attacked by a feral creature, right? “If you’re saying he was there…”

Adrian shakes his head again. Leans forward with his fingers laced together.

“The Feral who attacked you wasn’t a newborn. I could tell that from the start. Kamilah and I have been looking into the matter — likely he was a vampire who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But he can’t be cured.”

“No,” a beat, “he’s dead, Nadya. I killed him to save you.”

Hearing the creature was dead was one matter. But Adrian’s excuse — _“to save you”_ — makes her stomach roll. “Whatever. Was this Baron guy the Feral, then?”

“Oh, no, he —”

“Then connect the dots before I lose it.”

“The Feral was formerly a vampire named Douglas Courette. He worked at the Shrike… better known as the Baron’s place of operations. Now, you remember there are pacts in place to keep the number of vampires in New York at a consistent and manageable rate. There isn’t any _concrete _evidence that the Baron is behind the Feral population increase… but this is the first time we’ve been able to link, well, _anything _back to one of our own.”

It’s a lot to process. Adrian gives her time.

“So,” with a shaky breath, “what does that mean?”

“It means he needs to appear in front of the Council — which is formally requested via summons,” Adrian opens the center drawer of his desk and pulls out a manila envelope sealed with dark red wax. Nadya recognizes Kamilah’s liquid penmanship scrawled across the front bearing the Baron’s title. “Once the summons has been given the Baron will be bound by Council decree to appear and testify.”

“And if he skips it? Gets stuck in traffic?”

“Then his position on the Council is forfeit and his Clan would be dissolved.”

“Guess it’s something you can’t exactly have FedEx-ed, then.”

“No, not exactly,” he steeples his fingers and finally looks into Nadya’s eyes. She’s starting to regret that fourth cup of coffee. “For a summons to be binding it must be delivered in person. And unlike Priya — who at least pretends to get along with everyone — the Baron’s Clan knows every face of mine and won’t let us get within a hundred feet of the place.”

He doesn’t have to say any more. Nadya can read him like a book — now more than ever. And it brings an awful feeling up into her throat.

Unable to school her emotions Adrian recoils. “This is why I didn’t want to ask you. It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah, it is.” Nadya extends her hand for the envelope. “But it’s also my job.”

* * *

The last time she wore anything even remotely this ridiculous was Halloween night her senior year of college. Her frarority — still obscure enough to pass for a group of friends who lived in the same house — had decided on a group costume. Even more ridiculous; they decided to enter a contest held by the largest sorority on campus.

Needless to say their ‘Unpopular and Obscure Internet Memes’ group costume got a few chuckles but didn’t get anywhere close to the final four. And it had taken a solid month for her green face paint to completely wash off.

If she could Nadya would text Adrian to double-check The Shrike’s address. Wearing a shiny gold flapper dress in the middle of a seemingly-abandoned warehouse district makes her stick out like a sore thumb. But they both agreed it was too much of a risk.

This being one of the _many _reasons she wouldn’t make it as an undercover cop.

But Nadya isn’t the only person out of their element; she catches sight of a man in a crisp but old-fashioned suit leaning against a brick wall. His fedora obscures his eyes but she has no doubt what color they are.

“You goin’ my way, Daddy-o?” Her heels click-clack with each step. Get her the door guard’s attention just enough for him to rouse himself to his full intimidating stature.

He looks her up and down with a scowl. “You talkin’ to me, toots?”

_I can’t believe that worked._ She steels herself and bats her eyelashes.

“Anyone else here? Didn’t think so.”

His eyes linger on the way the fringe of her dress catches on the dim streetlight over their heads. Sure enough they gleam blood-red. She stifles a nervous swallow.

“Pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be runnin’ around dark alleys at night,” he scolds, “you never know what hangs out around these parts.”

Nadya ticks her tongue. “Oh I’ve got, erm, a pretty swell idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They lock eyes — a contest of wills. He smells of old chewing tobacco and something burning; the combination bringing a stinging tear to her eye. Finally Nadya relents; cocks her hip to one side and when she crosses her arms over her chest the wax seal on her envelope catches the same light.

“Alright, nope, can’t do this. I have a summons for your boss so how about you let me in?”

Whether the vampire got off on the roleplay or not the second the spell is broken so is his restraint. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t _have _to flash his fangs when he frowns but that doesn’t stop him in the slightest.

The door guard steps forward; towers over Nadya. His eyes glow in the shadow cast by his hat.

“How’s about I _don’t?”_

_“There you are,_ dollface!” Nadya breaks into a full-body shudder at the familiar voice behind her as it calls out from the dark, “so much for goin’ in together!”

The guard looks up — Nadya rounds on the woman with paling surprise. The sleek black flapper dress ringed with pearls looks wholly alien on Maricruz’s jolly form as she trots up to the pair of them. She urges Nadya back around towards the door just in time for the guard to slam his hand on the metal.

He looks between them, upper lip curled in distaste. “And who the hell are _you?”_

Mari twirls one of the strands of pearls around her neck with a long finger. If anyone else was running around New York at night in Gatsby attire the irony would stand. But despite only meeting her once Nadya wouldn’t forget that smirk for the life of her.

“Calm your pants ya bluenose. My gal and I here were just lookin’ for a hot place to go half-seas over. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Before Nadya can protest Mari seals their mouths together. She makes it a point to swallow all the air in the girl’s lungs before pulling back — and only then does Nadya understand why.

Maricruz’s fangs press just over the swell of her bottom lip. Her eyes like garnets in the light.

The guard, to his lack of credit, grins smugly at the display. Men never change. But the sight of Mari’s true form is like a skeleton key and with a gruff grunt, he knocks in a lazy four-beat tune on the door. The sound of bolts and locks being undone echoes through the alley and the door swings open with a whine.

“Whatever.” The guard tries to play it off but his focus lingers on the envelope in Nadya’s hands. She quickly stuffs it between her body and Mari’s as she’s led inside.

The door closes on them swiftly. They’re plunged into a dimmer darkness than the nighttime; old rust and a musty weight to the air making it hard for her to breathe.

She doesn’t get the chance to speak — instead Nadya finds herself pinned to the corridor wall with a hand beside her head.

Maricruz leers down at her with eyes blazing. Her voice; a purring croon.

“Now… why don’t you and I have a little chat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where we really start to deviate from the series plot! I can't wait for you to meet Maricruz. Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you again for 100 visits and all the kudos left so far! I'd love to know what you guys think in the comments.


	6. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadya’s first real job as a vampire’s assistant means venturing into a den of criminals. Lily’s girlfriend is more than she seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** mentions of death, violence, blood, mild sexism

Maricruz Espinoza was born somewhere around the shifting borders of Texas and Mexico in the year 1901. Her _madre_ moved Mari and her three younger brothers to New York to live with their extended family following the death of their father. Prohibition was ratified and her cousins found her work in the rum-running business.  


They worked for a man who only went by a title: The Baron.

Somewhere else in New York City, maybe while Mari was sitting down with her brothers and a home-cooked meal, the Council was being formed of six of the city’s most powerful and influential vampires at the same time. They laid down laws — pacts by which every Council member and those within their Clan were to follow… or else. But every system just starting out has flaws. Like during Prohibition; where the mass disagreement with the law gave way to speakeasies, rum runners, and corruption. In the newly formed vampire community of New York it wasn’t as easy to keep track of those being Turned.

She doesn’t remember how it happened. Probably one of The Baron’s men got her. Maybe a newbie who couldn’t control their impulses. But she remembers passing out — the pain — and waking up feeling like she’d gone forty days and forty nights in the desert.

But with no brand to keep her safe.

It’s a startling story; the kind that makes history buffs drool and gothic groupies stare in awe through their red color-contacts. But Nadya couldn’t care less. There’s only one thing on her mind.

“Does Lily know?”

Mari’s snorted laughter is just barely above a whisper. “I could ask you the same.”

“What, that I like going to costume bars?” She does her best to hide the folder from plain sight but it’s not enough. Mari isn’t impressed.

“I could smell the Council’s claim all over you the moment we met,” her nose crinkles, “with that… stench of self-importance; of power. And you wouldn’t be here without knowing the secret so how about we cut the crap and get to the part where you and I agree to keep this from Lily for as long as possible?”

Maricruz holds out her hand to shake. Something they didn’t do when they first met at the apartment and she gets why when she takes it. The coolness of her touch; same as Adrian’s, same as Kamilah’s. Once you know the trademarks of a vampire they get easier to recognize.

_Why do you care so much,_ she wants to ask — but doesn’t. They may both be walking into a den of wolves but at least Mari is a dog in this metaphor. Making friends won’t be on the agenda.

Mari exits the coat closet first. Gives a quick look on either side before gesturing for Nadya to follow behind her.

“What if the guard told —”

“Don’t assume things you don’t know.” Hisses the vampire in reply.

Nadya frowns. “Isn’t it better to be prepared?”

“Look,” she rounds on Nadya, “this isn’t one of Lily’s _Blood Suckers_ games. Vampires are fucking weird — and this guy’s about as weird as they come. The ones you’ve met have probably kept up with the times. That’s not the case with _El Baron_ here. Just follow my lead.”

While she watches Mari’s rapidly receding back Nadya sticks her tongue out for good measure. Sometimes even the little victories matter.

At the end of the hall is another door with faint music and dim lighting filtering through the bottom gap. Mari reaches out for the knob but it opens unbidden. The sudden light makes Nadya wince — her eyes take a moment to adjust.

There’s no time to ask Mari if The Shrike looks anything like its forefathers. Walls lined in red brick are decorated with the heads of various trophy animals — ranging in rarity from a common stag to what looks like (but can’t possibly be, could it?) a hippopotamus with its mouth frozen open. Ready to take a bite.

The deep cherry lacquer on the wooden floors make every polished step heard — a cacophony trying to overtake the man playing a vintage piano in the back corner. Beside the piano man a bartop begins, the same wood as the rest of the place, with the old-timey feel of an unlived nostalgia Nadya gets when she sees old movies. Only this isn’t a prop — the generous layer of dust on dozens of the bottles lining the reflective back wall prove that well enough.

A few men smoking fat cigars near the entrance pause their conversation to watch Maricruz and Nadya enter. Their eyes are dark; shadowed. Indulgence and arousal bead on their upper lips.

One catches her gaze and winks; pulls back his lips in a smarmy grin to reveal yellowed teeth as tobacco smoke pours from his maw like a burst dam. Nadya hastily rushes to catch up with the hem of Mari’s dress. His amused laugh is charred and guttural.

Mari leans up against the bartop and belongs. They both do on the outside but Mari — she acts like it. Names long-forgotten smuggled gains for them to drink and doesn’t take the bartender’s grimness for a ‘no.’

She hands Nadya a tumbler of honey-colored alcohol with a cube of clear ice in the middle. Nudges her to partake silently while downing her own. The booze carves a long path down her throat and settles uncomfortably. Makes the room suddenly seem a touch warmer — which only makes the chill venting in that much worse on her bare arms.

“You’re shit at this.” Mari mutters.

Nadya accepts an unspoken challenge then. Places her glass back down and gestures for a refill — which burns possibly _more _the second time around. But the deed is done and Mari looks a combination of impressed and exasperated.

Probably not what Lily had in mind when she suggested her roommate and possible-girlfriend get to know one another better. But life is full of surprises.

Nadya mimics her companion; leans back against the bar with her elbows on the edge. Still keeps the envelope clutched so tight it might puncture. They survey The Shrike’s inhabitants together.

“So, which one?” Nadya whispers. She’s got her eyes on a man with a beard to rival Santa and a monocle. He looks stately enough to be in charge.

“Hm? Oh,” Mari shakes her head, “The Baron isn’t up here. If he was it’d be a sign for us to high-tail it out.”

Before Nadya can question her Mari’s blue curls bounce — she jerks her head towards a set of stairs at the back of one of the brick walls. There the lamps are dimmer still; barely casting a glow on the golden railing descending into the dark.

“Down there?” Nadya asks.

“Yup. _El Baron_ rarely comes up from the Pit. Likes the fighting too much.”

“Of course he does.” _Because why would things ever be easy for me is her unspoken complaint._ She steels herself and tosses her hair over her shoulder. Ready to enter.

Then Mari grabs her by the arm.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Nadya breaks free after a quick struggle. “My job.”

“You’re a human going into the Pit. You’re gonna get eaten alive down there. Literally.”

“Adrian said —”

Mari barks a laugh that settles in Nadya’s stomach at an awkward angle. _“‘Adrian said,’”_ she mocks, “no matter what he said there’s no way you’re leaving this place alive without sticking by me. He’s probably already looking at new applicants.”

Mari may be right — Nadya knows she wouldn’t have even gotten in the doorway without her help. But she’s still a Clanless vampire in a Clan den and from everything Adrian’s told her there’s nothing good coming out of something like that. And… and she _trusts _Adrian. He wouldn’t send her to her death. Not when he went through so much to save her life.

_He wouldn’t._

“Maricruz,” Nadya keeps her voice low, feels the fuzziness of strong alcohol at the edges of her words, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But I came here to do one thing and, I’m sorry, but I can’t back down now. Not with how much is at stake.”

It makes the vampire shake her head in disappointment. “Like you could possibly know…”

“I know the Clans and your kind have their issues,” Nadya continues, “but I’d like to think getting to the bottom of the Feral crisis would benefit everyone.”

Whatever Mari was ready to say dies in her eyes as she takes in Nadya’s words. She silently mouths _‘Feral crisis?’_ but nothing more. There’s a sudden consternation in her brow. Whatever it is, Nadya doesn’t know, but she does take her opening to slip out of Mari’s immediate space — heads towards the stairs to the Pit.

“Thank you again,” she’s sincere, too, “maybe we’ll catch up like Lily wanted. When I’ve done my job.”

Despite everything inside her screaming against it, Nadya turns and descends into the Pit.

* * *

Oh yeah, that’s _definitely _The Baron. She didn’t expect him to look precisely like the love child of the Monopoly man and the Godfather but some stereotypes just can’t be overcome.

There’s a brawl out in the middle of the floor. A couple men in a no-holds-barred brawl while onlookers jeer and trade bills with every punch and fumble. Others keep to sofas and stools littered around the walls. Nadya nudges her way through a pair of tall twins to catch sight of the fighters — and she quickly wishes she hadn’t.

One’s eye isn’t just purple, it’s bulging and crying a little blood and looks like it might’ve gotten skewered by one of the little metal shivs inside an audience member’s martini glass. One man’s suspender straps hang limp and broken around his waist near a large gash in his side. The other favors his ribs slightly and it only takes one look to understand why; she’s only ever seen internal bleeding on television but if it’s anything like real life it looks like that.

There’s a crash and a whooping cheer from a flapper on a man’s lap; Nadya and the crowd hastily step aside as a broken bottle neck-end rolls into the fighter’s fray.

They both dive for it at inhuman speeds. Red eyes and fangs may be not unlike show props but these aren’t fakers — these are vampires through and through. The one with both good eyes claims his prize; turns with the brown glass glinting in the light of the overhead chandelier.

She turns away, eyes squeezed shut, and the crowd erupts into applause.

“Can’t say I’m surprised a little treat like you ain’t got the stomach for violence. Begs the question of what you’re doin’ seekin’ it out, though.”

His mobster accent is almost farcical. If she wasn’t so near hurling up her lunch at the smell of blood she’d laugh. But when Nadya raises her head and looks into the bright red eyes of an oily patron laughter is the last thing on her mind.

The watchers have started to disperse; give Mister Oily a wide berth to reach out and slide his arm around Nadya’s waist. She struggles for freedom but this vampire isn’t like Maricruz; there’s no questioning whether he’s friend or foe. His nails threaten to tear the fabric of her dress; dig in hard enough to make her wince.

“O-Ow. Let go of me. Now.”

His grin widens. “Hey now — don’t be like that. We could have fun, you and me.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes, “I doubt it.”

But her wriggling attempts at freedom seem to only excite the vampire more. He’s close enough that she can smell the whiskey on his breath. Whiskey and the same smell coming from the fighting ring.

“Seriously. Let go.” She tries again. “You do not wanna piss off the guy I work for.”

_“And who would that be?”_ barks a gruff, angry voice from across the Pit.

Nadya feels sweat bead down her spine in a thick drop. If the callout was good for one thing it was getting the vampire’s slippery hands off her — but at what cost.

She takes a moment; steels herself against the look of sudden fear on the creep’s face before she turns bodily to face The Baron in his large booth.

The Pit is silent. The only breath — hers.

Before she can open her mouth The Baron’s beady glare darts up to the vampire behind her.

“I’m guessing you didn’t bring your own tart tonight, Arnold?”

_Arnold?_ Nadya mouths in disbelief, but Arnold definitely isn’t as funny as his name.

“Nah, boss. Was busy finishin’ that Litchfield job.”

“That’s what I thought.” The Baron’s head turns to look around the Pit. The fact she can’t see his neck makes him look almost animatronic.

“So whose whore is she, then?!”

Whispers and mutterings travel between the vampires in a breeze. One looks ready to say something but his friend holds him back.

Her first instinct is to be extremely offended — but there’s no Kamilah, no Adrian to protect her this time — so she stays silent. Feels the presence of Arnold back off into the shadows to leave her in the proverbial spotlight.

The Baron doesn’t seem pleased he’s met with silence. His scowl deepens and he turns a similar shade of purple to his pinstriped suit. Then he levels on her.

“Well go on, kitten,” said not with seduction, but building ire, “go back to your master.”

Just before panic sets in, she recalls Adrian’s final words before dropping her off at the subway station. 

_“You’ll want to be brave and stand your ground. But those aren’t mutual, Nadya,”_ and his knuckles went white from his grip on the steering wheel, _“you have to treat a Council member with respect even if they don’t deserve it. We all hate The Baron but that doesn’t mean we can treat him however we want. Bow as you approach him and announce who you are. Lies won’t do anyone any good, least of all you.”_

Being brave and standing her ground aren’t mutual; that’s what he’d said. This must be what he meant.

Nadya’s careful not to step in the pools of drying blood on the concrete floor while she approaches. A pair of larger vampires step closer as if to stop her but she doesn’t falter — keeps walking with her head held high.

The Baron holds up a hand littered with golden rings. “Let her come. I wanna see who told this hussy she had a pair of balls over tits.”

In front of his seat Nadya offers the shortest and most curt of bows she can muster. If Adrian hadn’t mentioned it specifically she wouldn’t even have bothered. Not like the pig deserved it. But the display makes The Baron shake with a haughty laugh.

“At least she knows her place!”

A flapper beside him flashes a brief fanged smile. “Think you can get her on her knees? I’d like to see that.”

“Now there’s an idea.” He looks Nadya up and down with hunger and greed. “Hear that, hussy? Why don’t’cha get on your knees? Rouge ‘em up a bit.”

She swallows down whiskey-tinged bile and offers the envelope instead.

“I’m here on behalf of the Council. You’ve been served.” _Thank you,_ Law and Order.

All eyes fall on The Baron. His upper lip curls; he swiftly snatches the envelope from between them. When he catches sight of the wax seal he his anger bloats him further.

“Adrian _fucking _Raines; how am I not surprised…” The Baron rips the flimsy seal — practically yanks the papers out to give them a good look.

This part she wishes she’d discussed with Adrian. Did she need to bow before leaving? Could she just take off? Was Maricruz still upstairs waiting to see if the shrieks of her untimely demise would pierce through The Shrike?

The Baron gives the contents of the summons several derogatory huffs and snorts; clenches the packet in his fist as though it were as thin as tissue. Whatever superiority he looked upon Nadya with first is now gone — replaced by loathing, spite. A desire to see pain and revel in it the same way they had with the brawlers.

“Too much of a pussy to come here himself, eh?” And because it takes Nadya a moment to realize he’s addressing her, he barks: “Speak! Fucking bloodbag.”

Hot frustration bursts in her gut. “Like you would have let him in? I’m not that stupid, and neither is he. But you’re bound to the summons now, Baron, there’s no getting out of it.”

His chest puffs up. “You come into _my _territory, speak to _me _like that… Of all the cockamamie insults Raines could pay me this is by far the worst.”

With nothing but a gesture from The Baron, Nadya doesn’t even have time to blink before she’s held in place by a vampire on each arm.

“Hey!”

_“‘Hey!’”_ parrots the same flapper. The rest of the Pit laughs at the display.

“Pathetic,” The Baron sneers, “Raines couldn’t even send a pretty twat to wet my whistle. Still… now comes the question of what to do with you.”

Nadya struggles in vain. “Dude, if you —”

The Baron jerks to a stand and causes a collective gasp around the room. He jabs the packet in his fist at her with a bellowing roar of rage. “How dare you speak to me with that kind of disrespect! What kinda whore do you think you are?!”

“I’m not a whore!”

The word cracks in Nadya’s throat as The Baron backhands her with his clenched fist. Sends her head snapping aside and a dizzying pain to shoot through her body.

“I’ve had about enough’a your lip!” To his men, “Lock the whore up in the Cellar. Maybe a few decades down there can teach her some manners!”

“A whore’s a whores a whore.” mocks the flapper; though one brazen look from The Baron has her silent as the grave.

The vampires begin to drag Nadya — still struggling — towards a door at the darkest part of the Pit. Heart racing words choked up in her lungs fear stifling her every breath she looks around, almost on the cusp of begging for help, but the only thing she sees are dozens of pairs of bright red eyes and malicious sneering grins.

_There _is _no help._

“You can’t—can’t do this,” she shouts back to The Baron. Tries to dig her heels into the floor and feels one snap off. There’s a blur on her right and she watches with disgust as Arnold sucks on the heel stem lewdly. “Adrian knows I’m here! He won’t let you do this!”

“Is that so, toots?” His rage quelled, The Baron resumes his seat and throws his arms around the back of the sofa. Two flappers curl up against him and flash Nadya twin hisses.

She hates to sound like a cliche but the words tumble from her unbidden. “You’re not gonna get away with this!”

One of the vampires nearly yanks her arm from its socket to get the Cellar door open. The darkness calls to her, cold and villainous. _Holy crap._

“Pretty sure I already have. Who’s up for another brawl, ey?!”

The vampires of the Pit cheer. Nadya bursts into tears.

* * *

There’s nothing she can give them in trade and begging for her life just seems so… pathetic. Like somehow she’s supposed to be stronger than this just because she’s a part of Adrian’s Clan. Or because she belongs to them, more like.

The Cellar is a long row of rusty cells on both sides. Some are empty. Some have captives — vampire or mortal, she can’t rightly tell — thrusting themselves out through the bars; spurred onward by the thought of freedom. They pass one where a figure with their back turned to the door stays huddled on the ground; motionless — _lifeless,_ thinks Nadya, and she tries to break free of their hold one last time to no avail.

“Lookie here, we gotcha a neighbor.”

Nadya looks up when she realizes they aren’t talking to her. They’ve stopped in front of an occupied cell.

A man — _no, not with those eyes, a vampire_ — stands in the middle of the cramped space. While some of the others they had passed were wearing worn rags or clothes that didn’t quite fit with the time, this man’s rust-red leather jacket and tight jeans could very well get him on the cover of a magazine. His devilish gaze is half obscured by his mop of dark hair.

Despite the dire nature of her situation Nadya can’t help but feel like she’s being imprisoned next to a pop star.

One of her jailers nudges the other; frustrated. “Why’s he sayin’ nothin’?”

“Probably too hungry,” the thug grunts a laugh, “ey, Jaxxie? You too hungry to think right?”

But ‘Jaxxie’ keeps his vow of silence. Nadya’s heart breaks for him.

The thuggish one grunts at his friend. “Maybe cellin’ him next to a human will drive him crazy faster.”

With a rusty squeal the empty cell door to their right gives way. Nadya’s never thought of herself as claustrophobic and isn’t looking forward to revisiting the idea.

She stumbles as she’s shoved inside. Expects to hear the slam of the cell door. But instead one of the vampires looms in the doorway; transfixed.

“Oi, you comin’?” The other vampire sounds distant. Likely eager to get back to watching the fights.

“Yeah yeah,” replies his friend in a dazed tone. The longer he stares the more Nadya wishes she had been locked up with ‘Jaxxie.’ “Just wanna have a taste. Dun’ care what the Boss said — she’s awful pretty.”

“How are you a literal cartoon henchman?” Nadya spits — literally spits — and watches with brief satisfaction as it lands just shy of his eye. The vampire recoils — then snarls with fangs bared.

“Oh that’s it, I’m gonna bleed your whore neck out!”

With a cry — so much for her flash of courage — Nadya squeezes her eyes shut and prepares for the pain. She’s not spent much time considering what having her throat ripped out might feel like — so when there’s nothing but the tingle of her nerves dialed to eleven she’s almost glad death wasn’t as awful as they said.

Then a solid thud shocks her into looking where the vampire lies face-down on the concrete cell floor.

The broken-off end of a billiards cue sticks out of his back.

After she scrambles to the back wall Nadya watches the vampire’s death unfold. His skin withering, sucking in on itself and going dark, veiny gray. Then like snow under the sun he begins to wilt; flecks gathering into the air and dispersing. When she realizes he’s turning to ash Nadya sucks in a breath and holds it; cheeks puffed and nose plugged, to keep any from getting into her lungs.

The cue collapses onto the ground; the perfect (if unlikely) weapon for this particular evil.

A brief echo of footsteps spur her to action; Nadya grasps the cue and holds the jagged end out like she knows what to do with it. In theory, yes — execution however might prove to be a bit more difficult. Doesn’t stop her from trying.

She should feel _relief _when Maricruz appears in front of the bars with the other half of the cue dangling in one hand and a long tube in the other. But adrenaline and probably the closest she’s ever come to sheer unadulterated terror keep her on edge.

“Ma—Mari…?”

Mari eyes the sharp wood. “I’d like to see you try, _chica.”_

The vampiress offers her a helping hand to stand. Nadya takes it warily; wavers before practically going limp in her arms. Mari holds her up — displeased.

“Alright, I appreciate the attraction but I’m really more into geeks.”

With a strangled laugh Nadya manages to stabilize herself against the cell bars. Mari nods as if satisfied with her effort. Then, in a blur, she’s five feet away and forcing a ring of old metal keys through the bars of the cell beside Nadya’s.

_“Took you long enough, Espinoza.”_ Grunts a deep voice on the other side of the wall. The keys jingle as they’re sorted. 

Mari shrugs. Obviously nonplussed by the frustration of her companion.

“Well you weren’t the one on the ground looking like a snack.”

“You only say that because you’re attracted to her type.”

“What, women? That’s lesbophobic, Jax.”

“Yup, that’s me; your big ol’ _lesbophobic _boss.”

She watches as the man in leather — Jaxxie, no, _Jax _— twists the right key and kicks the door open with a deeply rooted sense of satisfaction. Mari offers him what Nadya previously thought was a tube, but the sparse torchlight of the Dungeon catches on the steel blade of a sword as he unsheathes it.

“Holycrap...”

Jax swings the sheath strap over his chest and looks between the women.

“You know her?”

Mari looks for a moment as though she’s debating introductions. Finally she nods. “Yeah. She’s uh… well unfortunately she works for Adrian Raines.”

If he was previously disinterested Jax’s expressive growl of anger says it all. Makes Nadya feel weak in the knees again.

“And you rescued one of the Clan’s cattle… _why,_ Espinoza?” He rounds on Mari who, to her credit, doesn’t flinch, move, or blink.

“She’s dating my roommate.”

Both Jax and Mari look at Nadya in surprise. She swallows down her racing heart and leans on the cue for support. “What, she didn’t tell you that before? She’s dating my very _human _roommate, Lily.”

“She mentioned an interest… but not that she was human.” Silent words are exchanged between the vampires, but Mari doesn’t intend to let it last.

“Come on. We need to get going, like, five minutes ago. You can give me a real thank you when we’re back at the Shad —”

Maricruz cuts herself off. Both of them exchange glances and focus on Nadya.

It’s frankly frustrating as all get out.

“Listen,” she wearily gestures between them, “I don’t care. Like really — I couldn’t care less right now. Just… please help me get out of here. That’s all I’m focused on.” Then she fixates on Mari with a pleading look. “Just help me get back to Lil’.”

Maricruz definitely doesn’t seem the type to ask for permission but there’s little else the look she gives Jax could mean. And it makes her stomach drop when he seems to actually be considering leaving her behind. But, after taking in the state of her, he looks at the very least pitying.

“Yeah, alright. Lets get her up. Here, help me with her arm.”

It takes no great effort on the part of both vampires but every last drop of energy Nadya has to hold onto them during the escape. Later she plans on asking them exactly how they got out — what hidden sewage ducts they must have wormed their ways through — but that would be much _much _later.

* * *

“Thanks for giving me your boots.”

_“Borrow._ I let you _borrow _my boots. Next time don’t break a fucking heel so you don’t end up limping all the way through an escape.”

Nadya wiggles her toes in the roomy leather and nods. Hugs herself tighter against the night chill while Mari watches her with attitude and a cock in her hip.

“You can take them back on your next date with Lil’.”

Mari takes a moment of quiet thought; when she speaks she can’t help but be hesitant. “You’re not gonna…?”

“Tell her?”

Mari nods.

The breeze brushes Nadya’s hair in her eyes. She quickly pushes it back. “If you like her, whatever. If you hurt her, though, or get her involved in business like The Baron’s, or whatever samurai-dude’s up to —”

“Jax. His name is Jax.”

_Right, Jax._ He’d left them once they reached the inner city — but not without a promise to Maricruz that they weren’t finished talking. Nadya even felt a little bad for her.

Her point stands. “You keep Lily out of this. At least until I find a way to ease her into it.”

“Why you?” Mari challenges, but it’s halfhearted and without much threat behind it. “Whatever. See you around, _chica.”_

Mari’s not gotten two steps away before Nadya calls out to her, fumbling around her costume dress frantically.

“Hey, think you could, uh…” She gestures awkwardly to the door.

“What,” then, with raised eyebrows, “you want me to break the door lock?”

“Well my keys are at work and Lily isn’t answering the comm.” Yes, she should probably head back to the office, to Adrian, but first — a shower.

A shadow crosses over Mari’s face. The same sort of vampiric darkness that Nadya’s been forced to endure so many times tonight — it makes her cringe. “What? She’s probably asleep.”

“She had an _Underwatcher _tournament tonight. That’s why we didn’t go out.”

“Maybe it’s over?”

The looks they exchange carry Mari’s worry to Nadya almost telepathically. Her grip tightens on her half of the wooden cue.

It takes everything inside her to force down her building exhaustion — to follow Maricruz through the busted complex door and up the back stairwell two steps at a time. Her vampire speed wins out as she pushes open the door to her and Lily’s floor.

She’s only just made it onto the landing when Maricruz screams.

_“LILY!”_

Nadya rushes to the open door of the apartment and clings to the threshold — the edges of her vision going fuzzy. Mari’s on her knees over something on the kitchen tile.

Nadya’s senses have become all too familiar with the smell of blood after tonight’s trip to The Shrike. She violently heaves on instinct when the salted iron tinge assaults her nose.

“Lily, baby, come on — come on open your eyes for me — Lily! _Lily!_ Fuckshit _LILY OPEN YOUR EYES!”_

Numb, Nadya watches; her world contracting into sharp clarity at the sight of Lily’s crumpled body lying in a pool of her own blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this is the _last daily update_ and all subsequent chapters will be posted on _Wednesdays_. Thanks to everyone reading so far! Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you.


	7. The Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lily is hurt, a desperate Nadya looks to Adrian for a solution. The results of his actions end up reaching farther than either of them could imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** blood, mentions of violence, choking, language

There’s hands on her knees. Nadya looks up — Adrian’s crouched on the floor at her feet. She doesn’t remember calling him but _who else would she call?_ Who else could… could understand? Could do anything?

His face grows misty. She blinks to focus. His thumb is cold when it wipes the tears from her cheeks.

“Bring me to her.”

She can’t fathom how her wobbly legs can carry the weight of her until she feels the supporting touch of Adrian’s hand on her upper back. They’ve lived in this apartment long enough for her to know it’s fifteen-and-a-quarter steps from the couch to Lily’s bedroom door but it takes an extra seven with the shuffling and stumbling of her feet in Maricruz’s boots.

_Maricruz._

The name echoes a few times; ricochets around her skull in a desperate attempt to break free before she realizes. Before she stops Adrian from grasping the doorknob by throwing a hand out across his chest.

“Don’t—wait—”

Adrian chocks it up to her panic, anxiety, grief. _You only grieve the dead, stop it._ He places what he probably thinks is a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezes.

“I won’t know what can be done until I see her, Nadya.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s —”

“It’s what? What’s going on?”

“Adrian, I —”

“What didn’t you tell me?”

All she can manage are wet choking sounds. The adrenaline’s made its way through her body by now. The only thing left is hollow, scared. _God, she’s so scared._

Then the door opens in front of them and they stare into Maricruz’s red-rimmed red eyes. Brow furrowed into a glare and Adrian is her whole focus.

“She didn’t tell you about me,” voice thick with emotion, body tense like a spring ready to release, but Mari doesn’t back down from the imposing height and presence of a Council member, “for fucking good reason.”

All it takes is the ghost of an inhale and Adrian’s eyes flicker blood red. Confusion besets Nadya when he’s suddenly the one guarding her, keeping her held back. The word harsh and rasped.

“Clanless.”

Though Mari’s body obscures most of Lily’s bedroom — she can hear Lil’ now, hear her groaning about so many people viewing the monstrosity that is her lack of cleaning and organization, she’s gonna be livid — all it takes is a shift of the Clanless vampire’s shoulder and Nadya catches sight of Lily’s hand. It’s so still.

She pushes past them. Rushes forward despite Adrian’s attempt to hold her back with “Nadya!” on the tip of his tongue. Leaps onto Lily’s bed the way she’s done a thousand times before and curls herself up against her best friend in the entire world and weeps into the blood drying into crusted flakes on her shoulder.

_Please wake up, Lil’_ — if she says it out loud it doesn’t matter, maybe some benevolent god can hear her that way — _please, please don’t leave me._

Through the sting of salt in her eyes Nadya can see the achingly slow rise and fall of Lily’s chest. _So much blood, there’d been so much blood, don’t move her what the hell are you doing Mari — I’m familiar with someone bleeding out Nadya_ — and then the strange painful loneliness that came with the unknown.

She called Adrian there for a reason, not for support. For the only thing her subconscious could think of.

Mari pushes Adrian into the hallway and leaves the door partially open. They’re whispering too softly for her to hear. Sending harrowing looks her way before resuming their secrecy.

“This is all my fault, Lil’. I’m so sorry.” She brushes her hair out of her eyes; can still feel the tack of sweat and the lingering smell of cigar smoke on her clothes, under her nails.

“It was going good, y’know? I felt… I felt so bad lying to you but it was for the right reasons. I was gonna tell you, I swear. I swear, Lil’ I was. But…” _But I thought I was keeping you safe._ She can’t even say it in the abstract. It’s a lie through and through. Her secrets got Lily hurt — maybe killed.

So they _owe _her.

Adrian and Mari are too involved in their arguing to watch her sit up. Arms wrapping around her legs, still feeling the tremors of fear—loss—anguish in her voice.

“Do it.”

Adrian’s expression scrunches up in confusion. “What do you me—ow.”

He’s spent too much time playing mortal — pretending for the rest, for himself too. He grasps his arm though she doubts Mari actually damaged him. Her eyes are back to their honey-brown hue and strangely cold as she looks between Nadya and her unconscious girlfriend.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, _chica.”_

“I do.” The prospect of a chance has her on edge, has her shaking where she sits. “I do. And Mari, god, Mari, she really —”

“Finish that sentence and I cut out your tongue.”

Nadya almost does Mari’s job for her; bites down so hard she can taste blood on the inside of her cheek.

She whimpers her plea. “But…”

“I’m not gonna fucking turn her — and if you ask again I’m out.” And maybe she’d be angry if she had any energy left for more than sadness. She doesn’t.

The rejection brings up a new well of tears, of hiccuped sobs and choked pleas. But Maricruz isn’t the only vampire in the room.

“Adrian.” He’s a blurry figure as she starts crying again and he’s got to. He has to. He’s Adrian Raines.

The color drains out of Adrian. Suddenly he can’t look Nadya in the eye — and that makes her blood boil. Energy renewed.

The weight of his sigh presses down on them all. 

“No.”

He catches Maricruz’s hand before she can hit him again. She wrenches it free and turns away. But Nadya isn’t so easily dissuaded.

_“‘No?’”_ she repeats. To his credit Adrian’s steeled himself enough to sound at the very least confident about his choice.

“No.”

“I—You—” Nadya struggles for an answer, ends up repeating herself again, _“‘No?’”_

“You know I can’t, Nadya. It’s in direct violation of the pact.”

“Screw the pact — this is Lily we’re talking about.” She clutches tighter onto her best friend’s arm. Like every time Adrian refuses her is one step closer to someone taking her away.

“I understand and — Nadya, please — if I _could _do anything to save her…”

“You can. You can Turn her.”

“I really can’t. Not without putting her in further danger.”

_“‘In danger’_ is better than dead!”

Her body jerks in the last burst of energy she can manage. Brings her up to Adrian bodily where she grasps onto his suit lapels and crumples the fabric so tight she can feel the prick of her nails through it. Adrian stays emotionless and she _hates him_ for it.

He probably thinks he’s being gentle, kind even when he places his hands atop hers but Nadya just feels patronized — a child throwing a tantrum. It takes her from angry to livid.

“You may think that now — trust me when I say I understand. Nadya, I do. But the _risks _of Turning — not just because of the pact, but on their own — believe me when I say you don’t want to put Lily through that.”

“No. You don’t get to decide.”

“I do. And I’ve made my decision. No, and that’s final.”

She’ll give him one thing — he’s clipped and formal in the way he handles business meetings at work. That CEO tone of voice that tells someone he’s made up his mind and nothing short of a miracle could change it. And the fact that he’s speaking to her like that — the fact he even thinks he has the _right _— about something as important and precious as Lily’s life makes her want to grab the broken billiards cue from where she abandoned it in the living room and drive it into his chest.

Adrian’s fingers card through her hair; his forehead a offers a cool clarity to her grief-stricken fever. The argument has ended — to him. He’s begun the process of helping her mourn.

His guard is down. Which makes it easy for Nadya to use her grip on his suit to push him against the hall wall.

The voice is hers, the words are hers — but whoever is speaking doesn’t feel like Nadya Al Jamil. This woman is desperate, she is visceral. She’s been kind and knows it doesn’t get her anything in return, so she’s ready to change her tune. And Nadya finds her terrifying.

“You listen to me Adrian-goddamn-Raines. This isn’t something that’s up to you, got that? This is not a decision for you to make. It’s not even _my _decision but the only person who _can _decide is in a freakin’ coma—” she jabs a finger back at Lily’s unconscious form, “—and can’t say crap!

“Do you know what I did for you tonight? Do you know what I _really _did?! Because I was almost killed! And frankly it was pretty damn scary. Because I was ready for vampires, you told me about them. I was ready for sleezy creeps, I’m a woman I’m pretty freakin’ used to that crap. Hell, I was even ready for that stupid Baron guy to throw the summons back in my face! But you know what I was definitely _not _ready for? I wasn’t ready to be dragged into a freaking dungeon with no way of calling for help!”

Any louder and the horrid neighbors upstairs were going to start a riot. But Nadya doesn’t care. Her voice cracks with every syllable; her anger rushing out in a wave that would take much more than two vampires to stop.

Though Adrian looks ready to dispute her he falls flat. A heavy swallow forcing a lump into his throat no-doubt shaped like the word dungeon.

“Nadya, I —”

_“Do I look like I’m done?!”_ The impossible happens and Nadya feels hot, fresh tears in a torrent down her face; blubbering up her speech and clogging her throat but _it’s Lily_ so she’ll suffer every minute of it if that’s what it takes.

“You told me I was safe. You told me your stupid pact meant he wouldn’t hurt me! But he did, Adrian, _he did!_ So you stand here and you tell me you won’t save Lily’s life because of the same stupid pact that no one but _you _follows then I’ll go to one of those other creeps and do whatever it takes for _them _to save her life! Because your pact is worth nothing, Adrian, nothing!

“And if your word — your _pact _— to a bunch of _liars _and _crooks _and _creeps _is more important to you than _the life of my best friend_ then… then…”

With nothing more to say, to scream, and no more tears left all the energy saps from her in one fell swoop. Her shaking legs finally give but Adrian doesn’t let her fall. He holds on tightly — so tight it almost hurts — and when she looks dead into his eyes there’s a sick sense of satisfaction she feels from the same kind of pain on his crumpled features.

“Please don’t ask me to do this.” He begs hoarsely. Brushes her hair out of her eyes and looks down at her like begging will work.

_It won’t._

“I’m not _asking.”_

When he hands her off to Mari she’s hesitant to let go. Doesn’t know how, really, like her fists have never _not _been balled up in his clothes. The vampiress’ arms wrap strong and secure around Nadya — keep her from falling victim to the draining release of emotions.

She blubbers for a moment; wordless, aimless, until Adrian steps into Lily’s bedroom fully and turns to look back at Nadya in a way that makes it seem like the final time. Hardened, focused, his eyes flash ruby-red and when he speaks he does so with fangs.

“If this goes bad — if she turns Feral, Nadya — _you _will be the one to stake her. Do you understand me?”

She chokes down her bile and nods.

In a blur Adrian kneels at Lily’s bedside. Pulls up his sleeve so quickly the button pops off and flies away; forgotten.

Then Maricruz’s soft voice in her ear; _“don’t, sweetie, this isn’t a pretty sight,”_ and makes Nadya’s decision for her when she covers her eyes with a cold hand. She glimpses a flash of red on Adrian’s arm — sees it hover just over Lily’s lips — but doesn’t resist the blissful ignorance.

* * *

Nicole bursts Adrian’s office door open in a surprisingly blunt display of force.

“What in God’s name possessed you to do something so ineffably irresponsible?!”

She’s pointedly ignoring Nadya’s existence — it’s in the tilt of her chin and the angle of her body away from the corner of the room where Nadya’s been curled up in one of the large leather-backed armchairs for the better part of the day.

It makes her close in on herself more. She continues looking back through the last text conversations she and Lily had. It’s a paradox — imagining Lily’s voice through her words is both her only current source of happiness and the thing that makes her want to throw up from grief.

“Adrian,” Nicole slams her open palms on his desk, “I’m talking to you.”

Adrian looks up from the files on his desk. He’s been reading them out loud — both to field his ideas into the open air and to distract Nadya by asking for her opinion.

“I understand your concern, Nicole, however —”

“Do you realize the position you’ve put yourself in? You don’t have any open slots in your Clan.”

_“Really?_ I wasn’t aware.”

The silence between them is supercharged. But whether out of respect for her boss or the realization that he won’t answer to her, Nicole breaks eye contact and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“A decision had to be made in the heat of the moment and I did what I thought was best given the situation,” Adrian explains; and Nadya tries her best not to make a snide remark — he’s arguing in Lily’s favor after all, “I’ve already begun filing the necessary paperwork to petition the girl my next Clan opening.”

A strange noise makes Nadya look up — where she catches the swell of the blonde’s shoulders.

Something unspoken is passing between boss and underling. Something Nadya doesn’t know; isn’t sure she _wants _to know. Nicole’s head snaps in her direction (she’s vaguely reminded of a Nat Geo video she watched on predatory raptors) and Nadya resumes total immersion in her phone.

Nicole’s resumed tone is forcibly calmer. “You and I discussed the… _recipient _of that spot some time ago. I was under the impression it was reserved.”

“You know as well as I do that verbal contracts aren’t the same as those in print.”

When it’s apparent Adrian won’t be looking back up from his files Nicole takes her leave in a drastically different fashion than how she arrived. Silent; the click of the door latch rippling through the room.

Nadya watches Adrian check something on his laptop; his face lit by what she assumes is the live video feed from the hallway beyond. When the elevator doors close on Nicole he changes feeds and buries his head in his hands.

The timer on her phone continues counting down. 

Five hours and thirty-three minutes until they go wake up Lily.

She screenshots the timer and sends it to an unsaved number. _“Don’t bother keeping it I’ll just have a new burner next week,”_ Maricruz had tried to sound nonchalant. But there was nothing nonchalant in the way she insisted for updates on Lily’s condition. It’d been hard enough to convince her not to come with them back to Raines Corp.

With his scheduled time for panicking over, Adrian ruffles his hair and tries to regain his workplace momentum. But Nadya can’t hold in her thoughts anymore.

“Is Nicole gonna be a problem?”

Adrian stills before shaking his head. “No. She’s angry right now but it’ll pass. It always does.”

“Like this is something that happens often?”

The bite of her words makes Adrian look up. She’s torn — grateful that he did what he did but angry at what it took to get there. But she’s never seen him look so exhausted; at the end of his rope.

“I won’t deny that Nicole has been operating under the assumption that she would take the next open spot in my Clan. But right now it’s her—still mortal—against Lily—who doesn’t have that option any longer. Would you rather I revise my choice?”

Nadya huffs. “I’m not saying you’re making the wrong choice, but she just seemed so…” _Vindictive, maybe._ She can’t quite think of a word for it. “I just don’t want all this to end up with — with Nicole sticking a piece of broken clipboard into Lily’s heart… or something.”

It’s not a funny image, but Adrian’s always had a hard time not finding Nadya’s metaphors and vivid imagination worth a small laugh.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to her, Nadya. If all goes well tonight she won’t just be a vampire — she’ll be of my blood. I don’t take that lightly. Okay?”

Only when she nods does Adrian go back to reading the report in front of him. Dividing her attention between the statistics and seeing an apparently missed message from a week ago where Lily asked her to grab eggs from the bodega on her way home, Nadya lets herself be lulled into something resembling sleep.

* * *

Delicate knuckles stroke her cheek. Nadya, still in the coils of sleep, turns toward it. No one ever tells you about the little things you miss when you grow up — things like your mother kissing away your bruises and the carefree feeling of running down a grassy hill; or the butterflies from your tip to your toes at your first kiss.

Those butterflies die when she opens her eyes. Sees a pair of violent red irises staring at her with unblinking focus.

When Nadya opens her mouth to scream Kamilah’s hand moves from her cheek to silence her; seals over her lips so tight every forced breath through her nostrils burns. She looks around hastily — still in Adrian’s office but there’s no Adrian.

“Calm yourself, mortal,” Kamilah says one thing and does another, presses down on her harder to impose her height on Nadya’s prone form, “it would be a shame for Adrian to go through all he has only for you to die of fright.”

When her breathing calms so does the rapid fluttering of her heart. Kamilah nods; satisfied.

“Now; I’m going to remove my hand. Will you scream?”

Nadya shakes her head slowly. The weight of Kamilah’s hand like stone gently eases then disappears altogether.

“Good girl.” But there’s nothing praising about the fanged frown. Two thousand years stare down at her and Nadya experiences — for the second time in the same week — that same concern for her life expectancy.

After a moment to gather her bearings — to throw aside the blanket she hadn’t been wearing before and ease her body out of the chair’s contortion — Nadya struggles to piece together what’s happening.

“Where’s…?”

“Adrian has begun preparations for awakening your friend. He asked me to fetch you.”

In a panic Nadya fumbles for her phone. Has to dig it out of the chair cushion, but the timer’s been going off silently for twenty one minutes and fifteen seconds. _Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen._

“We have to go!” Her attempt at springing into action is thwarted by Kamilah’s immovable frame; an arm thrown over her middle to knock the wind out of her belly. _“Kah—”_ she gasps, _“—milah!_ There’s no time!”

Then she’s thrown back into the chair faster than she can comprehend. Kamilah’s nails puncture the thick brown leather of the chair’s arms — pinning Nadya; caging her. There’s nowhere to run and no Adrian to save her. Kamilah’s noticed that too.

“You will make time to listen, and you will listen well.”

Nadya has to close her eyes to keep every feasible reaction inside. Kamilah’s breath is syrupy — either she’s not fed recently or the last person she ate was Willy Wonka. This close she can see an eyelash resting just so on her perfect, permanent cheekbone.

Then there’s Lily’s voice in the back of her head laughing and quoting a freakin’ meme: _“Well mark me down as scared and horny!”_ and that just does the exact opposite of helping.

Kamilah snaps; draws Nadya’s attention away from the pretty woman in her personal space and back to the centuries-old dangerous vampire in her personal space.

“I—I’m listening,” she nods so hard it’s giving her a headache, “I swear.”

“I have known Adrian Raines for every immortal year he has spent on this earth. Through his numerous projects, each flippant fancy—and every spineless, tactless mortal with which he has deigned to spend his time… I have been the one at his side. Which of these things, mewling creature that you are, do you believe has stayed as consistent as I?”

Sharp as knives, sharp as her fangs, Kamilah doesn’t give Nadya a chance to answer. “None. Because unlike me they were plagued with the passage of time. Just as you are plagued with the passage of time.

“When Adrian first approached me with the idea of bringing you into his fold, I cared very little. Your worth _is _very little to someone like me. What were you but another responsibility on his plate? When he risked his life for yours that cold, cold night, again I dismissed you. But now it would be irresponsible to ignore the reckless streak you imbue within him. You slumber here, believing you are at peace, yet do you even understand the danger you have put him in? Can your meager mind even comprehend it?”

She realizes a moment too late that this question isn’t rhetorical. Though Kamilah’s decided punishment of a hand wrapped around her throat — nails digging like thorns into the sensitive flesh — makes it harder for her to make recompense.

“I — He… he…”

“Speak. Spit it out if you must.”

“I can’t!” Then the grip is gone; still leaving her choking, fuzzy-brained; scared.

With a grunt of frustration the vampire pushes herself away from Nadya. Paces the room with steps that blur at the edges; crosses the office with inhuman strides before turning and retracing her path.

Maybe it’s not an answer she wants — she doesn’t seem the type to care, that’s certain. As Nadya watches her, though, a melancholy overcomes her. _Not again,_ and she clenches her fists to force the wave of emotions back down,_ don’t cry in front of the stupid scary vampire, Nadya, don’t you dare._

She speaks only when it feels like the effort won’t chafe her throat raw.

“Adrian knew the risks.”

“Indeed. And was content to let them be enough until you blackmailed him.”

Nadya’s glasses almost fall off her nose. “Excuse me? I didn’t… blackmail him.”

“Simple though you may be, a snake knows a snake,” hisses Kamilah, “and you have had ample time to learn how to twist Adrian’s good-natured heart to your own gains.”

It’s the thought of _anything _thats happened over the last 48 hours being a _gain _that makes her snap. Brings Nadya to her bare feet with an accusatory finger jabbed in the woman’s direction.

“Take that back! You — you take it back! I don’t care how old you are or—or how many people you’ve killed or how long you’ve known Adrian, you don’t get to stand there and tell me that I’m getting something out of Lily being hurt. You don’t even know her!”

Kamilah crosses her arms languidly; like she’s allowing Nadya one last breath before going in for the kill.

“I do not need to.”

“No!” Her conviction surprises them both. “Her name is Lily Spencer! She was my first friend in New York! She works at a job she hates but she’s so stupidly optimistic you wouldn’t know. Sure she’s messy sometimes, and runs the electric bill up the wall, and drinks my soda even when I ask her not to but that’s what best friends do.

“And she was probably attacked because of me and because of my knowing Adrian so yeah — yeah I begged him to Turn her even though it’s against your awful pact. But she didn’t deserve to get hurt and she certainly doesn’t deserve to _die!_ And Adrian knows that. He does — because deep down he’s a good person who wants to put good out into the world and I don’t know a force more good than Lily-effin’-Spencer.”

She’s a bawling, blubbering mess by the end. Teardrops smearing her lenses and carving familiar tracks down her face, sinuses all stuffy again with hot cheeks and the lump of her heart so far up her throat she might choke on it.

What really doesn’t help is looking down and realizing she’s wearing her college sweatpants and _her dumb socks don’t even match._

Nadya just cries and cries and all the while Kamilah watches in stony-faced silence. Luckily it’s a routine she’s gotten pretty familiar with over the last day and a half; so it doesn’t take her nearly as much time to recover and compose herself.

When she slides her hastily-wiped glasses back on Kamilah is holding out a pale cream handkerchief. Adrian likes his tie pins but he’s not a handkerchief sort of guy. This is Kamilah’s own personal effect.

“You look like a simpering infant.” She keeps her eyes, now devoid of their supernatural edge, averted while Nadya rights herself — cringes when she blows her nose into the silk like a horn. “Keep that. And never let an assumed enemy see you so vulnerable again. It’s embarrassing.”

_Assumed enemy?_ She decides to let it go and stuffs the square into her pocket.

“Come. Adrian will be wondering what has held us up.”

She doesn’t give Nadya the chance to recover from the whiplash of changed topics. She also doesn’t look willing to hold open the elevator doors while Nadya scrambles for her things and runs at a human pace behind her. It is a long ride down.

The elevator pings at the sub-basement. Kamilah blocks the opening before Nadya can exit.

“This is neither a debate nor a conversation so you will do well to listen and say nothing. First, your friend and her fate mean little to me. While your plea was certainly impassioned it carried little weight in my opinion of you. Second,” the flash of red in her eyes lasts only a moment, “you may believe in your own nobility but there is no arguing over what you did. You _blackmailed _Adrian — took advantage of his kindness and generosity — and in return have placed him in a position so dangerous you may never understand the consequences in your lifetime.”

Nadya raises her chin. “And third?”

“There is no ‘third.’ Your continued place in Adrian’s life may only last as long as it takes for me to clean up his mess. Not even batting your pretty eyes at me will change that.”

She turns on her heel and begins off towards the darkness within. Nadya waits long enough for the metal doors to close between them before she hastily jabs the button for them to open and rushes hot on her heels.

She’ll think about _“pretty eyes”_ when Lily’s safe and sound.

* * *

Only Lily isn’t there.

Adrian is. With a stake in hand and a concerning furrow in his brow; whatever’s on his phone screen apparently far more important than the distressed, almost animal-like noise that fills the room.

It takes Nadya longer than she’d like to admit to realize the noise is her.

But the hulking stone sarcophagus in the middle of the room is empty, ornamental lid propped against the wall like it’s a freaking ping-pong table and just in the way.

The first and most obvious thought comes to mind but Nadya doesn’t have time to act on it. Not with Kamilah’s grip on her shoulder keeping her back.

“No ashes.” And she, too, looks deep in thought. Surveys the room with slow sweeps of her head but finds the lid — _not the empty box_ — the most interesting piece of the scene.

This time Nadya really can’t shed another tear. Not even if Lily’s life depended on it. Only… it doesn’t anymore. She can’t stop staring at the tip of Adrian’s stake.

Kamilah squeezes tighter — forces Nadya to realize just how bad she’s shaking. That immortal hand is the only thing keeping her on her feet. She wants to run; doesn’t know where or how far but that’s not gonna be the thing to stop her. So long as she’s far away — from New York, from Adrian and Kamilah, from vampires and—

“Nadya.” For the first time all evening Kamilah’s face is almost kind. “Pay attention. There are no ashes.”

_What did that matter?_ There wasn’t even anything left of Lily to hold on to — that’s all it meant. With no rhyme or reason as to why she was attacked, with everything she was losing—more than a roommate Lily was her best friend, her sister, her freaking platonic soulmate—the only thing she can think to do is lay down and never get up.

Wait.

_Oh._

_Oh my god._

Nadya looks at Adrian as he pockets his phone. He goes to rub his temples; looks at the stake with a strange foreign bewilderment, as though he isn’t sure how he got hold of it. It gets tossed aside where it clatters on the cement floor and rolls away lame. Useless.

“I won’t fret you with the choice between good and bad news.”

Nadya inhales. “Lily; she’s —”

“Newly Turned vampires are strong, but not even I had such a mastery over my new senses to do this.” Kamilah, now near the lid on the far wall, picks it up and replaces it on the coffin. It settles home with a booming _thud _and the grind of stone; but Kamilah had carried it as though it weighed little more than a book. “The girl was removed with care — by someone with the strength to carry out the act and the grace to make sure it was done without detection.”

Adrian nods. “Close, Kamilah. But Lily wasn’t taken by someone acting alone.”

He gives Nadya a knowing glance. One by one all the butterflies in her stomach freeze in mid-air. She scrambles to pull her phone up only to find a missed message alert from an unsaved number.

Her thumb hovers over the screen but…

“I can’t.”

Adrian starts forward but her body language keeps him hovering at bay. “Nadya…”

“No,” she thrusts the phone at him, “I can’t do it.”

Gently he cups her hand in both of his. Off to the side there’s a faint choking noise from Kamilah followed by the sound of swiftly retreating footsteps.

“Look at me.”

“You don’t get it, Adrian, if she —”

_“Please.”_

She exhales and tilts her gaze upwards. Despite everything awful she’s imagining he’s smiling and the very sight of it throws her off. “What…”

He squeezes their joined hands. “It’s impossible for them to have taken Lily from the building with anything less than even mild consent. A Feral isn’t sound of mind, Nadya. She survived her Turning — at the very least. It isn’t much, but —”

“It is.”

_It is._

Adrian agrees to leave her to the message in the sub-basement — _“Are you sure? It’s… gloomy down here, to say the least — I’ll see you upstairs when you’re ready,”_ — and heads back up to join Kamilah in figuring out how to go forward. 

She waits for the noise of the elevator doors, for the digital sign to read he’s fifty floors up and only then does she consider how to begin processing everything that’s happened.

Were she a more morbid person the idea of laying in the same coffin as her now undead best friend would be appealing — morbidity aside there’s _no way_ she’s moving that slab on her lonesome. So Nadya takes her noodle-limp arms and hops up near the worn face on the lid and lets her legs dangle over the edge.

“Hi there.” She nods at the features worn and made less definite with time and finally — _finally _— opens the text.

[TEXT]: Hey girl. Miss you 2 death - lol - but I gotta go away 4 a bit.   
U kno why. Not happy btw :(   
But i'm ok. ok? I promise i'm ok.   
I’m with mari. She gave me the 411. Tell Adrian thx.   
Deep breaths baby girl. Shits cray, right? lol.  
Catch u on the flip side.  
xoxo  
luv,  
me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lily, Mari, Jax, and the Clanless _will_ return, not to worry! Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you.


	8. The Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine returns with a friend and some bad news. Nadya meets another member of the Council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** language

“Hey, Adrian?”

“Hm? Yes?”

“I think I put that I knew shorthand on my resume.”

“Uh-huh?”

“I think now’s a good time to point out that I don’t know shorthand.”

Adrian’s delayed laughter is like a lag in the matrix. He looks up from his files and offers a comforting smile. “No worries. You’re not here in an official capacity.”

She hopes it isn’t obvious how she slowly slides three of her four colored pens off the tabletop and into her sweater pocket. If Adrian notices he doesn’t call her out in it. Not like orange pen would show up well on yellow office paper anyway.

Before she can ask him to clarify there’s a sharp rap of knuckles; the conference room door opens to Nicole with a stack of papers tucked neatly in her elbow. Not a hair out of place. God what Nadya wouldn’t give to look so impeccably perfect right about now.

Everything in the VP of Operations’ body tenses when she catches sight of the pair of them sitting thick as thieves at the end of the long white board room table. Nadya tries a small wave, but she’s not surprised that Nicole ignores her.

“Mister Raines, your ten-thirty has arrived.”

“Great,” he nods and starts piling up the spread of documents and research he’s slowly been hoarding, “send her in.”

Nicole looks as if she’s debating saying something — whether it’s her loyalty to Adrian or her professionalism in the workplace that wins out it just leaves Nadya feeling even more confused.

“She’s brought a guest.” When Adrian looks up; “Another one of _them.”_

The vampire’s expression darkens and Nicole takes her leave. _Professionalism her butt_ — Nicole looked delighted to have upset her boss just so.

Nadya watches him pace with growing concern. “Then what am I supposed to be doing, exactly?”

“Keeping you in the dark just doesn’t sit well with me anymore,” explains Adrian, “not on anything.”

The door opens again — this time without announcement — and they both turn to greet their guests. The vibrant punch of colored hair sends Nadya reeling into another moment of nostalgia. She’s been having a lot of those in the last month. But it isn’t Lily who joins them — it never will be.

“Katherine, a pleasure to see you again.”

Adrian crosses the room in a single bound. He’s been doing a lot of that lately, Nadya notices. His eyes scanning documents faster than her heart can beat and the occasional vampiric dash to catch something falling. Even his familiar black-matte water bottles no longer carry the guise of a tea bag string hanging over the cap.

_How hard must it have been,_ she wonders, _for him to pretend to be human with me?_

A charade he obviously doesn’t need to have around Katherine. With everything going on she’s not thought about the mysterious stranger from the Gallery in a while but now she’s just another piece of the puzzle that’s growing faster than Nadya can solve it.

Katherine backs up; nearly into the figure behind her, at Adrian’s approach. Plasters on an obvious grimacing smile and doesn’t take his offered hand.

“Yeah, wish I could say the feeling’s mutual but — it’s not, so.”

At Katherine’s back the dark-haired man’s face grows somehow more stern; something Nadya wasn’t sure was possible. Were his brows furrowed any lower they’d obscure his eyes. He doesn’t move to put himself in the way of Adrian but there’s an obvious connection between the leather-clad guests that Nadya can see even at a distance.

Adrian’s well-versed in the world of business transactions; knows he’s not going to be able to force either of them to ease the tension through stiff-if-polite interaction. He nods curtly to the man and gestures for them to take any of the open seats at the conference table.

Katherine pulls out one of the chairs and only then seems to notice Nadya.

“Well look at you,” though everything she says seems laced with sarcasm there’s an impressed sparkle in her eye, “all grown up and at the big kids’ table now?”

In her confusion, Nadya only fumbles. “I—huh?”

Katherine’s friend yanks his chair back and practically falls into it — kicks his snow-caked boots up on the pristine white table and gives less than zero fucks about the flecks of mud that dirty the marble.

He jerks a thumb at Nadya; still floundering. “This the muggle you were talking about?”

Katherine nods. “Yeah, but I could’ve sworn she didn’t know a thing.”

“What, that vampires are real?” She pushes up her glasses and puts on her best fake smile. “I’m pretty perceptive.”

“Not just vampires.” There’s a chuckle hidden deep in the man’s Southern twang that brings a pink to Nadya’s cheeks. Before she can ask what he means, Katherine hits his legs.

“Can you at least _try _and act professional, Ryder? Christ.”

“Anything for you Kathy.”

Ryder’s boots find their way firmly onto the floor. He gives Katherine a _‘What?’_ look with only his face but remains silent.

Back at the front of the room Adrian clears his throat. “If we could begin… I have another meeting in an hour.”

Not that Nadya expects Katherine or her friend Ryder to suddenly pull out a presentation on the overhead projector, but whatever this meeting is (importance aside) she hoped for something a little more official. But apparently _official _just doesn’t exist outside of secret meetings at city events.

“Anything for you, boss.” The word drips off Katherine’s tongue with nothing less than her full sarcastic capability. “Did you follow up on the information I gave you on Courette?”

_Courette._ Even hearing his name sends a shiver down Nadya’s spine. Makes her remember everything Courette led to; The Shrike, the Baron, Maricruz — what happened to Lily — the Cellar…

“Yes, thank you for that again,” Adrian sifts through his papers and pulls out a small packet, slides it down the table where Ryder snatches it up to lazily peruse, “but it led to a dead end.”

Nadya glares at him sharply. “Seriously? What about the Summons?”

“He appeared in front of the Council as per the pact. But Courette stopped showing up for work a week prior to his attacking you. Sometime in between the two events he was Turned Feral. The Council voted and decided there was no connection.”

_When was this,_ Nadya wonders; can’t help but wish she could give that Council — and The Baron — a piece of her mind on the matter.

Adrian squeezes her shoulder reassuringly. It helps and it doesn’t. Too many things were complicated these days.

“I hope you know info’s info and I demand payment regardless.” Katherine warns. Adrian gives her a curt nod.

“Kamilah’s already transferred your funds as well as a compensation for hazard pay. We do appreciate the danger you’re putting yourselves in — whether you believe us or not.”

The comment seems directed at Ryder; who snorts and goes back to reading. He’s not a man of many words.

Coming into this, Nadya had hoped Adrian would at least fill her in beforehand. Trying to pick up the story from context is proving harder than she thought — but there’s no way in Hell she’s raising her hand and asking what’s what. Katherine and the Ryder guy were hired by Adrian and Kamilah for something involving the Ferals — something that was starting even before she was attacked. 

“Well that’s mighty generous of you,” drawls Ryder, “but I think it’s in Kathy’s best interest to up the pay anyway.”

Adrian stills. “And why is that?”

“You wanna tell him or should I?” Ryder seems to be getting some sort of delight in whatever information they’re withholding. Katherine smacks his arm but his smirk doesn’t abate.

“We think we found a couple of viable candidates for the Feral that Turned Courette.”

“A couple?” asks Adrian, appalled.

“Well, a few.”

“I need a number.”

“Eight.”

The color drains from Adrian’s cheeks. “Ei — _over half a dozen?”_

“Well, there _were _ten, that’s why Kathy called me up from the Bayou.” Ryder explains. “But we took care’a two of ‘em.”

It’s Nadya’s turn to offer comfort as Adrian sinks into his chair with a hand on his forehead. He’s not sweating — she doesn’t even know if he can — but he’s definitely more pale than usual. With the bright fluorescents overhead the shadows under his eyes are more prominent, too.

“Is that more than you thought?” she whispers while pushing his water bottle close. He shakes his head like he can’t even stomach the news let alone a drink.

“We’ve killed a good baker’s dozen on our own… and thought the problem handled.”

Ryder clears his throat to draw their attention. “We’ve narrowed down their territories to a couple square blocks per target. I’m sure I don’t gotta tell you these bastards are normally pack-oriented — but they ain’t smart enough to divide and conquer.”

“So most likely scenario we can come up with is that someone’s making Ferals with no relation to one another to keep them separate. Nothing to tie them to each other or whoever holds the leash.” To her credit, nothing in Katherine’s voice is amused. In fact Nadya wonders if she catches a quiver of unspoken fear.

Adrian doesn’t immediately reply — the duo wait in patient silence. She feels so useless, so ignorant; like any suggestion would be met with Ryder’s laughter and scorn and an explanation as to why she’s so wrong. She doesn’t know what to do and it’s an awful, awful feeling knotting inside her.

When Adrian finally stands the room lets out a collective exhale of relief. Palms flat on the tabletop, he keeps his eyes downward.

“Nadya, can I have you head back up to the office and set up a meeting with Kamilah before the night is through?”

It’s a little bit of a shock. Takes her a moment to realize he’s talking to her even though he very clearly said her name.

“Uhm, yeah,” because that technically _is _part of her job, but… “like, right now?”

“Yes. Please.”

It takes her a few seconds to catch up, but she does. It’s in the way Katherine suddenly won’t meet her eyes — how the Ryder fellow’s dark gaze hints at pity. Whatever Adrian has to say — _really say_ — he doesn’t want her to hear.

She wants to argue even though she knows it’ll make her look like a petulant child. After all wasn’t that why he’d asked her down here? So out of respect for her dignity she doesn’t. She does, however, make sure she pushes back her chair a little louder than necessary when she grabs her things.

“Let her know it’s urgent.”

“Yes, Mister Raines.” She finds small satisfaction in his almost imperceptible flinch.

“Nadya…”

“Anything else I can do for you, Mister Raines?”

He sighs. “No. Thank you.”

“Of course Mister Raines.”

_So much for not keeping me in the dark._ She gives a nod to Katherine and a polite smile Ryder’s way as she leaves. Finds herself lingering by the doorway — _literary irony thou art a cold-hearted witch_ — to catch the turn of the conversation just briefly before it closes.

_“How much will extermination cost?”_

_“For something like this? A favor.”_

* * *

When she tiredly scrapes her key in the door the first thing she hears is the faint lilt of opera music through the thin wood.

Nadya’s gotten used to living alone. She didn’t want to — sometimes her brain even tricks itself into hearing the familiar sounds of digital violence and Lily’s cheers of inevitable victory. _“The harder you hit the buttons and the louder you yell the more powerful you are,”_ that’s what Lily would say. And she played like it was a proven fact, too.

But there’s no pretending this is Lily. Winter’s been melting into spring and her grief still burns bright but not so much it makes her ignorant.

Her thumb hovers over the button to dial Adrian as she slowly pushes the door open. Yes, most people would call the police. But most people didn’t have a two hundred year old vampire for a boss and yes she’s still frustrated at that very vampire but that wouldn’t stop her from letting him make a midnight snack out of anyone stupid enough to break into her apartment and listen to opera.

When a voice she doesn’t recognize calls from inside she almost drops her phone from fright.

_“Miss Al Jamil, finally. Here I was starting to worry something terrible had befallen you on your commute home.”_

It’s not quite sunrise yet. Maybe an hour—hour and a half until it would be dangerous for Adrian to drop her off. Yet the living room curtains are drawn and the whole place smells of faint spices she’s not indulged in since she moved away from home.

She closes the door behind her and tries very very hard to understand the broad-shouldered figure sitting at the tiny table she’d forced Lily to buy prior to taking up her share of the lease.

“Senator Vega.”

The Senator smiles; all charm and one left dimple in the way that’s won him at _least _the household wife vote. He looks dreadfully out of place — Adrian was the last time something that expensive walked through her doorway — but at the same time doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable. He just is. But he _is _in her apartment.

“I gotta tell you,” yes, she’s disturbed beyond belief, but Nadya follows her routine like it’s any other day — leaves her shoes by the doormat and goes to put her dirty lunch container in the sink, “there’s such a thing as going too far with your constituents. This. This is too far.”

But why else would Senator Vega be in her apartment? She’s not dumb.

“The sun will be up soon.”

Vega laughs with a shake of his head. His fingers drum continuously on his starched pants.

“Well, Adrian wouldn’t have signed you into his Clan if you weren’t bright. But I have to say Miss Al Jamil —”

“Just Nadya is fine.”

“— Nadya, then; you should be a little more careful going forward. I’m sure you can guess our kind aren’t deterred by locks and deadbolts. Do you even carry a stake in your purse?”

She chugs half a bottle of water from the fridge before turning to Vega fully. “You know, until now I hadn’t seen the need.”

_“Tsk tsk,_ then Adrian has failed you in properly ensuring your protection.”

Her fists clench at her sides. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t _break into my place_ to tell me what Adrian’s not doing right, Senator.”

“Please,” with that same politician-smeared endearing tone he uses during newscasts, “call me Adam.”

“No thank you.” Even in the darkness barely permeated by the overhead kitchen lamp she sees the tick of his frown — there and then gone in a flash. Vampires are cunning and politicians are cunning so what happens when you put all that _cunning _into one vessel? Nadya’s got a sickening feeling she’s close to finding out.

He waves it off easily. “I digress. Yes, Nadya, I am not without ulterior motive for visiting you tonight. But I’m not the only Council member eager to put a face to the name Adrian praises so often these days. My associate Cecil had the, _ahem,_ pleasure, I was told, but he’s not the most hospitable even on a good day.”

“Cecil?”

“Our friend ‘The Baron.’” He says the name like it’s on the same tier as ‘The Boogeyman.’ Nadya sucks in a breath and nods.

“Yes, yes we were told you two had been acquainted. Dreadful business — certainly something that never would have happened under my purview.”

“Sucks you weren’t there, then.”

Vega obviously finds her funny but he’s the only one laughing. “Indeed. Now, onto business…” Nadya does her level best not to tense when Vega starts pacing the apartment. His angular nose twitches — makes her wonder if he can catch some whiff of what happened to Lily. Adrian tried to insist on a cleaning crew but Nadya refused — wanted to take care of it herself. Took a long weekend and spent it on her hands and knees scrubbing industrial bleach over the tiles and threw away everything with even so much a speck of dirt on it just in case that dirt was blood.

He stops opposite her, the kitchen island between them, and thumbs the leather strap of her purse idly.

“I don’t know how much your dear employer has told you about the Council. How it was founded. _Why _it was necessary — why it continues to be a necessity in these troubled times. What we stand for, and what we stand in the way of when it comes to the balance of things.

“This city is teetering precariously, Nadya. We’ve become a mountain on the head of a pin in the middle of a hurricane. And if things continue as they are…” He doesn’t have to give her the visual. “I’ve already prepared for the inevitable; as many of us in the Council have. But I fear Adrian may be too ensconced with the present to be thinking ahead as he must.”

She fumbles for words. It’s a lot to take in. “If you think — or know — something bad is going to happen, why don’t you try and stop it?”

“Such a finite way of thinking about things; part of that mortal charm, I’m sure.” Answers Vega — only it’s not an answer at all. He’s just talking in circles.

“The Council and I need Adrian Raines to be looking far ahead — his sights set on the future. Your influence has apparently been enough to keep him fixated on the present, so perhaps your influence might be enough to tilt his chin up a bit — if you get my meaning.”

_No, I don’t,_ she wants to say. _Get the hell out of my apartment,_ she wants to say.

But he’s waiting for an answer, so…

“Yeah.”

“Good. If you value him as much as he values you then I think you’ll find this leads to an outcome beneficial for all.”

The sudden beeping of her phone cuts through the tension harshly. Makes her jump and grasp her chest before she looks down at it. Her sunrise alarm greets her with a digitally smiling sun.

Vega’s the one who turns it off — takes a moment to look at the screen with something akin to amusement before hitting the snooze. “I believe that’s my cue to leave. This has been an enlightening discussion but the sun waits for no vampire — no matter his age.”

_Discussion?_ She can’t remember really discussing anything. Only talking in circles.

“No need to show me out, I remember the way.” Vega takes her hand without prompt and kisses the back of her knuckles. _God, how she wishes chivalry was dead right about now._ “Thank you for entertaining me, Nadya. I hope you found this meeting as delightful as I did.”

She resists every urge to yank her hand back, but crosses her arms defensively. “Sure. That’s a word for it.”

The Senator heads out likely in the same manner that he came in; as though he owns every piece of ground he walks on. He stops just shy of closing the door behind him and gives Nadya a final farewell with his unnerving politician-practiced smile.

“Don’t forget to vote.”

The door _clicks _shut but Nadya doesn’t move. She stares at the blank wood with a trembling lower lip. Just waiting, waiting for him to come back inside. Or for another vampire to invade her space.

Her snooze alarm snaps her out of her trance. Nadya sinks to the kitchen floor in blubbering tears.

* * *

_“I do not seek to invalidate your fear but leaving your front door unlocked sends a message even I am confused about. Has it been this way all day? Nadya? Where are y — Nadya.”_

Kamilah sighs as she takes in the sight before her. Nadya on the kitchen floor, legs curled to her chest, phone clutched in her hand. White knuckles that won’t thank her for keeping such a tight grip later on in life.

“What are you doing down there?” She waits for an answer but Nadya… she doesn’t give one. Doesn’t think she can speak more than the dozen desperate voice messages left on Adrian’s cell.

A dozen whimpering, tear-filled pleas for him to come protect her and what did she get in reply?

[TEXT]: Nadya I’m so so sorry.  
Out of the city. Calling Kamilah ASAP.  
-Adrian  
[TEXT]: Kamilah en route. Stay there.  
Have a bag packed.  
-Adrian

“Stand.”

She lets out a shaky breath and shifts her legs. Pins and needles race along her skin and her knees ache in protest. _How long has she been down here?_

“Are you impaired, now? Or injured in some way?” Then Kamilah’s face comes into her sight line; the vampire crouched before her in a way that lesser, confused people might call _concerned._

“Nadya, look at me.” Her voice, like smoke and cinnamon, draws Nadya’s eyes to hers. Lets her map every little crease that was allowed to set in before she was Turned — frozen in eternal beauty. _Holy… wow._ “Are you injured?”

It takes a second for her to recover but Nadya manages to shake her head. Kamilah nods, satisfied, and when she stands she has a slim hand extended in offering. With her help Nadya pulls herself up.

“Oof!” The pins and needles catch up with her; angry at her audacity to move after being still from sunrise to sunset. She sways and reaches out for purchase. Finds herself held steady by a lithe and impossibly strong grip.

“You said you were uninjured.” chides Kamilah; who now looks Nadya over with almost medical scrutiny.

“I’m fine,” though her voice probably shouldn’t sound foreign to her own ears, “seriously — my legs just fell asleep. I’m fine, Kamilah. I promise.”

Only when the vampiress seems satisfied does she let go of Nadya — Nadya who’s desperately putting every brain cell she has left into resisting flushing crimson red. Without another word Kamilah vanishes in a blur — reappears not a moment later. The opera music no longer plays.

“The premises are empty.”

“Yeah, I could have told you that.”

“You seemed incapable of doing much of anything.” Kamilah glances back where Nadya had been on the floor and, well, she’ll give her that. “Adrian contacted me hours before, but I could do nothing until sunset. He said you were attacked. But I see no evidence of —”

“Not — it — lemme explain—”

“I expect nothing less. _After _we’re far from here.”

Nadya packs under Kamilah’s careful surveillance. She has to wrangle her old suitcase out of her closet — runs past her vampire protector several times to grab her things from the bathroom, the living room, Lily’s room — but manages to shove in a couple changes and enough comfy hoodies to last a prison sentence in Siberia. And a change of work clothes just in case.

“Make what you can carry last,” Kamilah advises her from the doorway, “you likely won’t be returning soon.”

Nadya pushes up her glasses — a reminder that has her rifling for her spare pair in her bedside table. “What do you mean?” _Well there’s one pair… what happened to the third?_

Kamilah scoffs. “You’re unprotected here.” She says it like a fact; something obvious. And in retrospect the fact that she continued to sleep in the same place where Lily was attacked — where Lily was _killed _— for weeks after… It makes Nadya pack just a little bit faster.

She’s known objectively that Kamilah and Adrian were very different people — but learns just how different when Kamilah opens the passenger side door of a car that would look more at home on a 60s spy film set. Her suitcase stays clutched in her lap while she waits for Kamilah to join her; both taking in the dark leather-lined interior and finding herself terrified of damaging it.

Kamilah shuts her door with possibly more force than necessary. “What are you staring at?”

“My student debt cost put into one vehicle — how did this thing not get stolen while you were upstairs?”

“If that is truly your only curiosity then you should really reconsider your living arrangements.”

“A broke girl lives where a broke girl can afford.”

Kamilah looks at her sharply — Nadya quickly backtracks. “Something Lily used to say; but without the expletives.”

It’s no surprise that Kamilah’s empathy has a limit — and she’s expended all she can manage. The car peels away from the curb in a squeal of tires and blaring taxi horns. If she wasn’t so exhausted she’d be a little more terrified of crashing. Instead Nadya lets the purr of the engine and the lights of the emerging New York night lull her into a snooze until they arrive.

There’s one thing glaringly wrong with all the splendor of Ahmanet Financial and the apartment Kamilah sets her up in: it’s nothing like the condo at Raines Corp. at all. Still wide and spacious but every turn of her head makes Nadya dizzy — no surface left un-adorned with antiques older than she can even fathom. And despite the night every curtain is still drawn shut and clasped with a wrought iron hook. Nadya wouldn’t mind seeing the view from this side of the city but she’s not going to impose on Kamilah more than she already is.

“I thought we were going to Adrian’s.” She follows Kamilah’s lead and toes off her shoes at the doorway. Steps on the raised hardwood floors and feels the cold leech through her socks.

“Adrian is out of town until tomorrow. Urgent Council business.”

“You didn’t go with him?” The arched brow she gets makes Nadya fumble to take her words back. “I—I just mean, you know, as a Council member too.”

“No. I did not. Lucky for you.”

Her tour is brief — closed doors mean stay out and she’s strongly encouraged to take a shower. “Or a bath, if you prefer, I trust you know how not to drown.” And the way she gestures to the single fanciest bathtub Nadya’s ever seen in her entire life incites just a hint of jealousy.

All too soon Kamilah’s sliding her heels back on at the doorway. Nadya stares silently — she can’t help but feel a little like a babysat kid… or a house pet left to its own devices.

“Try not to have any life-threatening emergencies. My butler Gerard can be reached through the landline.” Christ she’s not seen a landline outside of an office in ages. “Keep up after yourself.”

“You’re not going to…”

Kamilah’s stare stops her words in her mouth. “What,” asks the vampire, “did you think I would stay?”

_Adrian would,_ she thinks, and definitely doesn’t say it out loud because she values her head on her neck.

“While it may be the single most bothersome occupation I’ve filled my time with, the running of a Fortune 500 company does not simply happen. We’ve made ourselves titans of business and now we must follow through.”

“Yeah, yeah no, of course.”

Kamilah opens the door; seems to remember something and flashes a look over her shoulder. 

“And one more thing — do not leave. This is where you are safest.”

_She wasn’t planning on it._ “Thanks — again. I mean… for everything. Thank you, Kamilah.”

“Mm.” The door closes with Kamilah on the other side.

Nadya wraps her arms around her middle and tries — with little success — not to feel so utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katherine and Ryder will return — and that _favor_ will be revealed — in the _Nightbound_ crossover of this series: _Bound by Circumstance._ Hope you enjoyed! Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you.


	9. The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine. Sure, her old room mate is a homeless vampire on the streets and her new one is a 2,000 year old babe who won't give her the time of day... but it's fine. Totally fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** none

Turns out this isn’t a space for guests at Ahmanet but rather Kamilah’s personal and private accommodations. In retrospect it makes sense since she’d have to be a fool to leave all this priceless art where anyone could take it, but she’d really like to see what Kamilah does to anyone who even considers calling her a fool.

It also turns out that despite having a personal butler the vampire is pretty low maintenance. Gerard is an old, withered man and the exact opposite of the type of butler Nadya would expect Kamilah to hire.

When she first came across him the night before, Gerard was busy stocking the kitchen with snacks that would make Lily get down on one knee and propose. _Definitely not for Kamilah,_ then. And since she’s never had a situation that required, well, being buttled after, she just does what she does best. She talks to him.

“Your accent—Northern, right?”

Gerard had grinned in reply. “Aye, quite an ear you have there.”

“I did a semester abroad in York,” Nadya explained, sheepish. Trying not to sound desperately pretentious. “If you don’t mind my saying though, you’re a bit easier to understand.”

He was apparently glad for someone to talk to, because _boy _did Gerard talk. He explained how it was originally his grandfather who came from a small town outside of Manchester and was employed into Kamilah’s — _“Lady Kamilah”_ he calls her — service straight off the boat at Ellis Island. “Found himself a nice wife here; a London lass fleeing the war just as well.” He had a daughter, Gerard’s mother, whose first and only place of employment was also working for Kamilah.

“So when she had you…”

“Just seemed natural at that point. Three generations. ‘Course, I don’t have any myself — never saw the allure. It’s just been Lady Kamilah and I since my mam retired oh… right about when they knocked down the Wall.”

When Kamilah ‘checked on her’ after her business hours Nadya paid close attention to their interaction — and she was amazed at how kind and considerate Kamilah was to the gentleman. Despite being paid to look after her needs Nadya watched as Kamilah helped Gerard’s trembling hands hold the coffee grounds steady.

It was… sweet.

Adrian’s trip takes him a day longer than they thought. Whenever Nadya tries to pry information out of her vampire host the woman goes tight-lipped. And she just doesn’t seem the type to be easily worn-down by an old-fashioned begging episode. She just has to trust that if anything were to happen… Kamilah would tell her.

When he’s back in the city, Adrian’s first stop is at Ahmanet.

Nadya’s gotten so used to the comings and goings of Gerard that she doesn’t even look up at the sound of the front door. Just continues enjoying her butter pecan scone while Kamilah peruses the evening paper with her coffee in hand. They’ve gotten pretty domestic.

“I trust everything went smoothly?” Kamilah asks; doesn’t even look up from the article she’s devouring in the financial section.

Nadya looks around, confused, and chokes on her half-chewed bite when Adrian suddenly appears in the doorway as if by magic.

Stupid vampire hearing.

“Are things ever that easy?” On his way to the coffee pot Adrian stops and squeezes Nadya’s shoulder in comfort. Of course she’s still mad at him for saying one thing and doing another — but the threat Vega poses sort of eclipses her immediate annoyance. And a familiar face helps way more than she thought.

Kamilah sets down the paper. Looks at Adrian with a hard eye.

“Did you hold up our end of the bargain or not?”

“I found us a middle ground.”

“That wasn’t what we agreed upon.”

“We’ll discuss this later, Kamilah.”

Nadya snorts — still a little salty about the last _discussion _he had around her. “Don’t hold back on my account.” She realizes this was a mistake when, even without looking up from her phone, she feels two pairs of eyes boring into her.

Behind her there’s a deep sigh, then Adrian joins them at the small kitchen table with a mug in hand. Turns his attention to Nadya. “How are you feeling?”

_Well that’s just a very good question now isn’t it?_ Too bad she doesn’t have an answer. “Okay. Kamilah’s been a great host.”

“She has?”

“Why the tone of surprise?” The older vampire asks — but it doesn’t look like she’s taken real offense.

“I just —”

“Yes?” She looks at Adrian expectantly and Nadya can’t help but get a kick out of how he looks like a scolded child. When he can’t come up with an answer Kamilah nods in fitful victory. “I thought so.”

There’s a brief and uncomfortable silence while Adrian sips his coffee. Finally Nadya just can’t take it anymore.

“So what are we gonna do about Vega?” She looks between them. “Or any other vampire who wants to squat in my place, for that matter?”

They exchange grim glances. Nadya recognizes the look; the one that trades silent debate on who gets to be the bearer of bad news. Without a word between them — though, really, who needs words when Adrian’s eyebrows are that expressive — they battle it out. Adrian puffs out his chest and moves to place his hand over Nadya’s. She pulls away — catching him by surprise — but he shakes it off quickly.

“If it were that simple we wouldn’t have taken the measures we have. It’s best you stay here until all this blows over.”

Nadya scowls. “Just because he’s a Senator?”

“No,” replies Kamilah curtly, “Adam is more than a Senator, he is a distinguished member of the Council and a Clan Leader, too. Aside from the fact that attempting to chastise him with any sort of publicity would be tantamount to declaring civil war among our ranks, we must continue on as we have to gain the upper hand.”

“What upper hand?”

“Calling Vega out shows weakness. It shows that his attempts to rile you up — to rile me up — worked.” Adrian sips his coffee. “We can’t let him think he’s in a position of power.”

The scones churn in her stomach. It sounds an awful lot like Vega’s getting away with something just because of his status and everything in her bones screams _injustice._

“I’m sorry. I know it’s frustrating, and I’m sorry.” Their eyes meet — with a shoulder-slumping sigh Nadya forgives him with a nod and half a smile. Across the table Kamilah rolls her eyes.

“There is a silver lining, however thin, when one takes into account why Adam felt compelled to act as he did. I assure you — his time is spent far better elsewhere.”

“Er — thanks, I think?” She doesn’t know whether or not to feel insulted so she lets Kamilah continue.

“He was the first to speak against the Baron at the Summons. Yet no other has been more outspoken in eradicating the Feral infestation before it overruns us. Curious, Adrian, no?”

He nods. “Yeah, I noticed that too. But he cleared the background check.”

“And if you and I have means to conduct such an investigation without the Council knowing then I’m sure Adam has the means to conceal his machinations just the same.”

“Wait wait—just wait,” Nadya holds up her hands as if to literally pause the conversation, “so now a legit Senator is behind the Turnings and the Ferals?”

“Nothing is certain. And nothing will come of speculations without evidence. Until we get some…” Kamilah stands and tucks her folded paper under her arm. “Some of us have companies to run.” She gives Adrian a pointed look before leaving them alone.

Though it could hardly be called a routine Nadya stands and starts clearing up the table; grabs Kamilah’s empty cup and saucer to do the dishes and opens several cabinets before finding the desired tupperware for her scones.

Adrian loosens the knot against his throat; leans back into the chair with the air of a man finally allowing himself to relax.

“Are you feeling up to returning to work?”

“Depends on the work.” Nadya lies. She’s itching to go out, to do something other than pacing the apartment.

“Well the Volenti writeups could use your color-coded touch…”

Before she can place the lid on the container there’s a blur out of the corner of her eye. And one less scone in the box. She rounds on Adrian as he nibbles the pastry gratefully. “Hey! Nu-uh, scone-thieves don’t get the luxury of color coordination!”

He grins around his bite, and Nadya hates herself for it but she smiles back only because it’s an infectious ease; the lightest she’s felt since the panic of finding Vega in her space.

“Alright, alright…” Sucking up her pride and relenting; “lemme go change. And, hey, make yourself useful and grab me a coffee to go while I do?”

She’s already around the corner as Adrian scoffs, _“Make myself useful?”_

“You heard me, Raines!”

* * *

Nadya doesn’t exactly know _when _it happens but the _how _she has down-pat. Kamilah’s been doing this—life, living, the pursuit of continued immortality—a lot longer than Adrian. She’s got a mind for business and doesn’t need to be bothered with the extra labor of a personal assistant of her own. But when she leaves her day planner open on the ornate glass coffee table and Nadya has to witness the injustice of hasty scrawl and dog-eared sticky notes, some no longer relevant, it becomes less of a bother and more of a matter of pride.

Kamilah doesn’t knock on her bedroom door. It’s her penthouse after all.

“What is _this?”_

She brandishes the newly-corrected day planner with frustration. Nadya grins and leaps to the rescue; explains the new organization method and what the different symbols and colors mean for her hectic schedule.

At the end of it Kamilah surprises her by looking more irritated than usual. Here Adrian had found her penchant for organization to be a godsend.

“Did I ask you to do such a thing?”

Nadya pushes up her glasses, falters. “Well, no, but —”

“Then please refrain from going out of your way.” And already Kamilah is tearing out pages, moving notes; basically giving Nadya a heart attack on the spot. “I am not Adrian — I am a big girl and do not need someone else to handle my affairs.”

So it takes her a hard day’s not-working at Raines Corp. to hunt down the exact same planner online (not to mention an advance on her paycheck for reasons she refuses to tell Adrian) with rush shipping. Rather than apologize in person Nadya decides to take Kamilah’s way of doing things to heart and she simply leaves it all shiny and new on the coffee table.

Kamilah doesn’t say anything about it but, well, it’s gone when she heads to meet Adrian downstairs. So that’s something.

Living with a two thousand year old vampire actually isn’t that bad. Especially when Nadya learns she spends her weekends out of the pantsuit and yes, there _is _a satin nightgown involved.

The first springtime storm makes New York sigh in relief. Everything is damp and muggy but the rain washes away the last of the snow piled up in alleys and corners, and even Kamilah comments on the lack of road-salt stains on her good shoes.

During the days when it feels like the heavens are weeping onto her directly Nadya sits under an awning at the penthouse rooftop pool. Holds a steaming cup of tea in her hands and watches the cityscape underneath her. When the sun sets and the city grows bright with its own light she tries to pick out Lily among the thousands of dark dots moving through the streets.

The number for Mari’s burner no longer accepts messages. Nadya can’t tell if that’s a good or bad sign. She’s answered probably a hundred solicitation calls in the last month hoping they’re her new number… but they disappoint her every time.

Things settle down. Adrian and Kamilah tell her about Council business if she asks but she gets the feeling she really shouldn’t ask often. Gerard teaches her how to make the perfect cup of tea. She even manages to get Kamilah to join her for one episode of _AME _and may have written about it in her diary as their first date.

People still go missing or turn up dead on the news. She’ll forward Adrian an article and get a simple one word reply. There are far more _“yes”_ answers than _“no”_ and either of them want to stomach it so they don’t talk about it unless they have to.

Everything goes a bit weird when the elevator doors open Wednesday evening and Marie Antoinette is standing in front of Nadya’s desk.

“Well, actually,” Adrian leans in to correct her, “if you look closely her patterning is a little more subtle and the lacework isn’t as extensive.”

“And?” Nadya hisses through her forced smile.

“Marie Antoinette was 18th century is all I’m saying. This woman is obviously 17th judging by how her costume isn’t as decorated yet.” _Obviously,_ he says, as though he didn’t just blow her mind in displaying his (apparently extensive) knowledge of French historical fashion.

The woman stands and gives a sweeping curtsy with her skirts. Nadya finds herself fixated on the height of her wig and how in the world she must be keeping it on her head.

_“Mademoiselle et monsieur, bonsoir.” _She lays on the accent thick. The secondhand embarrassment she’s feeling for the woman is all too real.

_“Bonsoir,”_ replies Adrian with a slight bow. He gives Nadya a look as if to say _‘go along with it’_ she she struggles through curtsying in a pencil skirt.

Luckily the woman doesn’t stay long — Adrian doesn’t even invite her into his office. She offers him a small envelope made of a thick textured paper, his name scrawled in beautiful calligraphy on the front, and bids them both good day on her way back to the elevator.

“Isn’t anyone gonna question that?” Nadya watches the doors close on her while Adrian continues into his office proper.

“Question what?” With considerable care for the craft of the envelope he slides his letter opener along the seam and unfurls the gift within.

“You know, nevermind.”

The letter is an invitation — she can tell that much from afar. But no matter how many questions she pesters him with Adrian refuses to budge. “We’ll discuss it later, with Kamilah,” he says, “I promise.” But he does make her schedule him as _‘Out of the Office’_ for a long weekend. Curiouser and curiouser.

* * *

The apartment is swathed in the aromatic fragrance of Gerard’s butter chicken and curry when they finally arrive near dawn. Nadya’s fully embraced nocturnal life and so has her stomach; which rumbles petulantly when she passes the kitchen to change out of her work clothes.

Only the living room — or whatever Kamilah wants to call it, parlor or whatever — has had a bit of a change since she left that evening. Namely the half dozen headless mannequins miraculously scattered around the now empty space. Each wearing something beautiful; divine. Each more so than the last.

And Kamilah on the couch eying them body-by-body with nothing less than frustration.

“Do they have to be headless?” Nadya asks with a slight whine. Then again at least it doesn’t look like they’re staring into her soul this way.

Adrian, behind her, gives a half-snort of amusement.

“Well that answers that question.”

Kamilah looks at them abruptly as though they take her by surprise. “Is knocking a lost art?”

_I live here,_ Nadya wants to say but doesn’t push her luck. “Sorry Kamilah. We just weren’t expecting…”

“You’ve accepted Marcel’s invitation, then?” Adrian sits beside his old friend and gazes at each mannequin with scrutiny. “I was hoping we’d discuss it first.”

“What’s there to discuss? We attend the Awakening Ball every decade without fail. Why would this one be any different?”

“The last Ball he threw there wasn’t a statewide Feral panic.”

“Oh do cut the dramatics, Adrian. It isn’t statewide. And Nadya, dearest, please do not touch. These aren’t replicas but irreplaceable originals.”

Nadya jumps back like the fabric has teeth, both sheepish and filled with awe. One of the dresses is obviously Egyptian in origin but the vibrant colors and jewels look more like something made within the last week than however many centuries ago.

“So you—I mean this was yours?”

Kamilah rolls her eyes like answering the question is tiresome enough on its own, but Nadya’s lived in close quarters with her long enough to see a hint of pride in the gleam of her eyes.

“It _is _mine. But I understand your meaning and, yes, I wore it during my days in Cleopatra’s inner circle.”

Nadya looks to Adrian as if for confirmation; he shrugs lazily. Still intent to focus on whatever they were both invited to.

He leans forward with an elbow on his knee in the same way he does while discussing important company business. “Still, that many vampires in one place —”

“Are you insinuating that _petit bébé_ is behind such madness?” There’s an air of possessiveness in Kamilah’s accusation.

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then you will go and you will like it. Traditions like these are just what we need in times of chaos and fear.”

If Adrian thinks about arguing with her it doesn’t last long. He sighs and slumps his shoulders with a resigning nod of his head. “I suppose it _would _be a good chance to get the Council together without force.”

“Now you’re thinking about the bigger picture.” Kamilah pats his knee affectionately. Turns to watch the next dress Nadya has fixated on with appraisal.

“That was my second choice, behind simply forgoing Marcel’s theatrics entirely, but I doubt he’d forgive me for a century or two if I refused to participate.”

Nadya lets her fingers hover just a hair’s breadth away from the dark red silk. The color of blood — obviously and on purpose. She wistfully thinks of how dead Lily would be over a real, authentic Medieval corset and smiles to herself. Tragic wording aside.

Then she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand and Kamilah’s not on the couch anymore. She can smell the cinnamon and heavy wildflowers of her perfume — _oh god she’s right behind me. _

Kamilah’s voice comes lowered, almost sultry, and Nadya watches like a statue as her delicate hand comes up to gently coax Nadya’s fingers to sample the texture of the silk.

“Difficult to move in — all women’s clothing back then was.” She traces their joined hands over the straps of the bodice with something akin to sentiment. “But it never failed to accentuate my… assets.” They stop at the curve of whalebone. Nadya’s having a really _really _hard time breathing suddenly as she imagines exactly what kind of assets would be settled there. Warm and soft, snugly pressed together, rising and falling with every breath…

“Will you be joining us tonight, Mister Raines?” Gerard’s voice cuts through the hazy lace-trimmed fog of Nadya’s mind. She looks to see him in his usual black apron with a stack of plates in hand.

There’s a small brush of air and she knows Kamilah’s no longer within arms reach.

Adrian stands and tucks his coat over his arm; gives Gerard a fond smile and pat on the shoulder. “Not this morning, I’m afraid. I have an appointment back at the office.”

That takes her by surprise.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He clears his throat and looks aside. Suddenly unable to meet Nadya’s eyes. “It’s a personal matter.”

“And?”

He tilts his head upwards and there’s no mistake at the look in his ruby eyes. _Hunger._ Yet he keeps his lips sealed and appears to shift in his own skin.

“Got it. Well…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nadya.”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

She wants to call out to him before he goes. Wants to tell him that, like with all things, he can trust her with that side of him, too. But then she realizes she’s never actually seen him feed — Kamilah either. Was it something they were keeping from her? Some innocence left they were trying to maintain before an inevitable fall from grace?

Gerard and Nadya eat alone. When the dishes are done and Nadya feels like she’s helped all she can she returns to the living room to find the mannequins gone — as if they were never there at all — and Kamilah’s bedroom door closed.

She stays up long enough to see the sun rise from the roof of the building. When she’s sure it’ll keep going without her she tucks into bed. Her dreams wrap her in a cocoon of dark red silk and the smell of burning cinnamon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Awakening Ball is something I've wanted to include from the start of this fic; I can't wait for you guys to see what's in store! As always comments and critique would be fabulous, it's how I know what you like and what to improve on! Thank you.
> 
> And to find out where exactly Adrian was during Nadya's hour of need, check out [_The Favor_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125906/chapters/48324487).


	10. The Cellar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadya, Adrian, and Kamilah head to the Awakening Ball: the most exclusive event in American vampire society. For the first time Nadya finds herself in the company of others like herself – others who know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** language, alcohol, mentions of recreational drugs/nsfw content/war (brief)

“Adrian. Stop.”

“You remembered your second glasses just in case?”

“Yes.”

“Adrian. I mean it.”

“And this time I know better. No chocolate fountain.”

“Please — Kamilah, make him stop.”

“What? I’m just —”

Having had enough, Kamilah reaches out and cuffs Adrian around the ear without so much as a twitch in her eye. “You’re just acting like a bloody hen. No more. Nadya’s a grown woman fully capable of taking care of herself. She doesn’t need you hovering over her this entire weekend.”

Nadya flushes scarlet but mouths a _‘Thanks’_ that Kamilah doesn’t acknowledge. Adrian steps back and clears his throat.

“I’m sorry. I simply…” While he struggles to find the words Nadya can’t help but feel bad for him. He really was only being a friend… right?

“Lily always had to do this kind of stuff, too.” She reminds him with a half-smile. He flinches slightly and looks into her eyes — there’s a pain there she hadn’t noticed before.

“I know.”

_Oh. _He feels responsible in some way — she understands, now. And god if it doesn’t make her a little weepy. But at the risk of Kamilah bringing up her lunch she just tucks her arm in with Adrian’s and squeezes against the cold like his presence is enough to warm her.

“Thanks. But I got it. Okay?”

He pauses before smiling back. “Okay.”

Whether or not he intended it to be that way his fussing has helped in one respect; it’s taken Nadya’s mind off of the rest of the gathering travelers on the station platform. The humans are easy to pick out: they’re the ones wearing coats and frocks and other things to keep them warm against the way winter lingers on spring nights. The vampires are otherwise unaffected by the cold and chat among themselves while their breaths send fog up into the air.

There are far more people — undead and otherwise — waiting for the train to Upstate New York than Nadya would have believed. She looks around and tries to place some of the faces; wondering if she’s passed any of them on the subway or at a bodega or just on the street. People living normal days and normal lives except they’re actually a part of this dark, hidden world she’s brought herself into.

“Wait a sec — I thought the only vampires in New York were part of your Clans.”

Kamilah nods. “Yes, that is true. However the Awakening Ball has attracted many different guests over the decades. Those who used to live here now spread across the world, not to mention friends of Marcel’s through the centuries.”

“Are any here members of your Clans?”

Kamilah inclines her head towards a small group standing in close quarters. All young and dressed in clothes that could pay a year of Nadya’s old rent; each face more beautiful than the last. “Lacroix will no doubt be making a fashionably late entrance, but the same is not to be said for her Clan.”

“A few of mine are over there.” Adrian gestures to three young men smartly dressed. Upon closer inspection Nadya can’t tell the difference between them.

“Seriously, you’ve Turned triplets?”

“Vietnam was a hard time for many,” is the only answer he gives — opens up a whole world of questions Nadya doesn’t feel comfortable asking.

Finally the station announcer comes on the speaker overhead; announces the train’s arrival and the usual safety measures. Nadya’s dreams of sleek modernity are quickly dashed as an old steam-powered locomotive chugs and chokes its way along the track. It’s a beautiful piece of machinery to be sure but she had been hoping for something along the lines of Amtrak luxury and not… well.

As the train pulls to an ear-splitting stop the groups on the platform begin to divide. Coats and their owners heading towards the dark, oil-black cars with rust along the edges at the back and the pretty vampires to the painted and well-maintained front cars.

She looks up to Adrian to find his face fallen. “Damn. I forgot about the cars.”

“How could you not? You’ve never brought a mortal before.” Kamilah gestures to the humans at the back. “Tradition dictates the human guests be seated separately from us.”

It makes Nadya grimace. “Why?” But the shrug she gets in response doesn’t really answer a thing. “Well, I mean, do I have to?” She hates how whiny, petulant she sounds. But the surprise of it sort of catches her on the bad end.

Adrian picks up their suitcases by the handles. “I’ll join you in coach.”

“Adrian —” Kamilah starts, a protest on her lips, but he’s having none of it.

“We can’t leave her on her own!”

“If we don’t get going we’re gonna be the ones left,” Nadya takes her bag herself and ushers them forward, “it’s whatever, let it go.”

Before Adrian can protest further she urges Kamilah to push him towards the classier cars where the line of vampires boarding dwindles. A shadow passes over the woman’s face, something Nadya wants to ask about when she meets up with them later, then she feels the chill of Kamilah’s hand in hers.

“Good luck.” She whispers, and nudges Nadya onward.

There’s no tickets for the conductor to check; he simply lets her board. The seats may not be luxury but they aren’t assigned so Nadya, the last to step on, awkwardly tucks her suitcase between her legs and shuffles to an aisle seat. The man she sits beside huffs at the intrusion and turns away from her bodily.

Didn’t matter the destination; train passengers would be train passengers.

The whistle’s cry carries on the wind and the train lurches forward. Too bad it forgets Nadya’s stomach back on the platform.

Half an hour in she settles in properly; moves to grab her phone and earbuds to settle in with her playlist, when she notices a weight around her wrist that hadn’t been there before. Nadya holds her arm up to the dim overhead light to see a sterling silver bracelet hanging loosely on her wrist. Links polished; it’s a thing of beauty down to the compass-like charm swaying with the motion of the locomotive.

Then there’s a tap on her shoulder that startles Nadya to the present — to the same conductor from before who looks between her and her bracelet with grim confusion.

“I’ll have to ask you to come with me, madam.”

His voice rings clear over the soft conversation of the rest of the car. Heads turn their way and some even stand in their seats to watch them. Nadya wants to sink into the ugly upholstery and die.

“Uh… w-why?”

“Please, if you will? And bring your things.”

She’s never worked harder to avoid eye contact in her life — wishes she knew someone, anyone who would speak up for her. “I — I don’t understand. I belong here, I promise.”

The conductor just isn’t having it. “I think you’ll find that isn’t the case. Now. Madam.” He’s not asking anymore. With embarrassment and shame burning in her cheeks Nadya stands and grabs her bag. Her seatmate doesn’t hide his grin of victory and quickly sticks up his boots on the emptied seat.

Nadya follows the conductor as he hastily leads her forward from car to car. Trips over her bag a few times and tries not to catch herself on any protruding limbs as they keep going and going and going. “Uhm, please — if you’ll just let me explain — or tell me where we’re going!” But the conductor might as well be a mime for all he says.

They stop in a bay between cars; different than the last few by a long shot. Though a glass pane she sees velvet booth-style seats and lush carpeting instead of plain walkways. A woman in a server’s uniform expertly balances a tray and three bottles of champagne against the train’s motion.

Before Nadya can ask the conductor slides open the door with a gold latch and gestures for her to enter.

“Oh — but that’s vampires only.” She pushes up her glasses.

“I’m aware, madam,” he gestures again, practically pushes her inside, “vampires and guests of importance. Claimed humans included.”

The door shuts behind her. The car residents either don’t notice or don’t care about her arrival, and she flounders in panic before catching sight of a familiar pantsuit standing at a bar.

“K-Kamilah!” She rushes forward, ducks wildly to avoid being decapitated by a tray full of what look like wine glasses of blood, where Kamilah awaits her with a satisfied smile. “I—I was sitting and then… then I don’t know! The man, he —”

A slender finger presses against her lips; silences Nadya’s breathless attempts at explaining herself. The chill of their entwined fingers sends shivers down her spine and Kamilah holds up her wrist and the bracelet with a coy smile.

“He was doing his job, Nadya. Now stop fretting.” She nods mutely. In return Kamilah brushes her hair out of her eyes.

“You, erm, that bracelet…”

The vampire lets it go, lets her keep the charm. “Adrian, bless his soul, has never been one to plan ahead. I imagine it’s why he needed an assistant in the first place. Come, grab the bottle.” Kamilah requests one more empty glass from the bartender and takes the three in her hand. Nadya grabs the bottle and hurries to follow. “Claimed mortals — that is to say ones with a Clan brand or some affiliate sigil — are allowed to sit where they please.”

“So that’s your Clan symbol?”

“Yes.”

“And you carry that bracelet around everywhere?”

She stops abruptly in front of the entrance to the next car up. Keeps her back turned to Nadya and she has to strain to hear her response over the conversations around them.

“No. I don’t.”

When Adrian looks up to see them both his face lights up. He helps Nadya put her case in an overhead bin and all together they toast to the trip with the wine Kamilah pours. Nadya braces herself but the sweet taste catches her by surprise. Judging by the twinkle in the brown eyes across from her… it’s not a coincidence.

* * *

_How is this my life? Seriously and truly, with the utmost sincerity, how. is. this. my. life?_ Probably not the smartest or more eloquent reaction to the sight of the large castle estate but Nadya’s not taking it back for anything in the entire world.

“What do you think?” Adrian leans in and matches her smile tooth for tooth.

“I can’t believe he freakin’ brought it here from_ France.”_

“There was a lot about the Old World they wanted to bring with them. Everyone kept telling Marcel he couldn’t, so naturally…”

“He did?”

Together they laugh through the front gardens and into the castle itself. Stewards and maids all dressed in the same era-appropriate fashion take bags, direct queries, and bring all the guests into a queue where they receive their apartment numbers and key cards to go with them.

Nadya turns hers over with interest. “Is it weird I was expecting old antique keys or something?” But Adrian is equally puzzled.

“Seeing as I was, too, not at all.”

Kamilah rejoins them soon after — having taken off to catch up with some monk or priest or other at the station — and Nadya’s momentarily left speechless by the flushed smile she’s pretty sure she’s only ever dreamed of.

Adrian hands her key card off. “He wasn’t at the last Ball, was he?”

“No,” Kamilah laughs — Nadya’s pretty sure she’s landed in heaven, “I haven’t seen Kusumi in centuries. It was happenstance that he was on the West Coast at this time of year. We have quite a bit to catch up on but there’s always tonight for that.”

The vampires walk around like they have this place memorized down to the cellar. Nadya follows hastily; tries to both take in everything around her and not get left behind. “Wait — the Ball’s tonight?”

“No — but _La Soirée_ is.”

She doesn’t know if either vampire had to pull any strings to get her roomed with them or if it was one of those things that came with the perks of Kamilah’s bracelet; and while her good old-fashioned lower-middle class upbringing guilts her into wishing she could foot some of the cost she knows that’s just not possible.

There’s two bedrooms joined by a small communal living space in their guest apartment. Before anyone even says a word Kamilah grabs both her and Adrian’s cases and places them in one room; leaving Nadya to take the other. She’s not exactly bothered by it but the idea of sharing a bedroom with Kamilah — however temporary — does make her heart race.

While Kamilah busies herself with the careful removal of her dress from its box Adrian hunts down a glass decanter and two tumblers. Based on the dark red and viscous contents Nadya does not want to try some. Instead makes herself comfortable with her shoes kicked off and legs folded crossed on Adrian’s bed.

“So… what’s _La Soirée?”_

“It’s the party before the party.” Adrian hands Kamilah her glass and they both take grateful drinks. “It’s not an official thing; Marcel doesn’t host it. But a couple decades back someone decided to gather up everyone who was already at the estate and mingle.”

The word makes Kamilah snort. She wipes a drop of blood from the corner of her lips. “Such a tame description.”

“I’m just trying to explain it.”

“Not well.”

Nadya clears her throat and makes them both remember her presence. “Don’t give me the PG version. Out with it.”

With her hands on her hips Kamilah rounds to face her. _“La Soirée_ is, for all intents and purposes, an orgy for the vampire guests. For many of us it’s a time to rekindle old friendships and business partnerships with those we haven’t seen in many years. That, and the excitement of the newly Turned tends to go to their heads and they need a place to release tensions in order to keep calm at the following Ball.”

“But,” cuts in Adrian, “there’s also a party for the mortal guests. Marcel’s cellar was decorated for it specifically.”

Only Nadya’s not really listening to him. She’s still trying to process _vampire orgy_ because it’s not something one hears every day. And there’s a lot to unpack in a statement like that — especially when you know the vampires who would be at said vampire orgy quite well.

The mental image that flashes through her mind makes Nadya shiver bodily.

“What was that about?”

Nadya looks to Adrian with utter terror in her eyes. “You’re going to this thing… isn’t the Baron gonna be there? Or—eugh—Lester?”

She’s pretty sure she watches Adrian’s entire immortal life flash before his eyes.

“No,” Kamilah answers for him, “or rather I should say their presence is likely but their participation is less so. Signing up for such an affair doesn’t automatically mean you have to participate… or be participated with.”

So that explains why she’s pulling lingerie out of her bag. Nadya didn’t really take her as someone who would get into that kind of thing but maybe she’s only refusing to process the thought of her crush in an orgy. A vampire orgy.

God, if Lily were here she’d be losing it.

Finally, once the initial shock wears off, Nadya reaches across the bed and pats Adrian on the shoulder. “Well I think this’ll be good for you, at least.”

“Try telling him that…” mutters Kamilah under her breath. Adrian, meanwhile, blanches.

“And that’s supposed to mean what exactly?”

“You’re going, right? Kamilah, tell him he’s going.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Nadya on this one. It would be good for you to… loosen up.”

Adrian stands. Makes like he’s just going for another drink but he’s starting to do his business-pacing and Nadya can practically see the different emotions he’s trying to respond with. “Firstly — none of your business. None. Neither of you! Secondly — no, I don’t even know what to say secondly.”

He leaves the room before either of them can say anything else. Surely he doesn’t mean to slam the door but combined with his vampire speed that’s definitely how it comes across. Kamilah just chuckles to herself. Nadya, however; well she does feel a little bad.

She finds him sitting in one of the ornate high-backed living room chairs. Sipping another tumbler-full, his fingers drumming against his leg. Maybe even the hint of a blush. He looks up when the door opens but doesn’t stop Nadya from taking the seat across.

“I don’t want to discuss it. I wasn’t planning on attending _La Soirée.”_

She shrugs. “Okay.”

“Frankly I’m surprised you’re so—so accepting of this.”

“What,” she pretends to be offended, “because I’m a mere mortal?”

The look Adrian gives her is at the very least amused. “More like because you’re surprisingly okay with Kamilah going.”

Nadya freezes in place. Her quip; gone. Any laughter; poof. She’s pretty sure she had a good line about Adrian being ‘wound tight’ but that’s nothing more than a fleeting dream because — “Why would I have a problem with that?”

There’s a lot to say in the way he stares at her. No words; Adrian doesn’t need words. Unfortunately one of the downsides of getting to know someone almost intimately well is that they tend to get similarly close with you.

But he’s not wrong. That’s the worst part. He’s not wrong at all. And when she really thinks about Kamilah being involved in all that there’s nothing but unease in her stomach. It only took five seconds of being in Kamilah’s presence to know she was practically a goddess walking the earth. Living with her? Seeing her fresh from sleep or just after a swim in the moonlight? She’s more than her beauty and Nadya’s seen it.

Seen it. Never said anything about it.

When she comes back to herself Adrian’s carding his hand through her hair. The one secret thing she missed about Lily that she only half regrets telling him. He means well but it just makes her miss her best friend more.

“For what it’s worth I’ve known Kamilah for a long time — so I know how hard it is for her to open up to people. And… why she’s the way she is.” Whatever that _is _he doesn’t say. Nadya knows better than to ask by now. Maybe one day she’ll know them both well enough to not have to ask. To simply be a confidante regardless. “And she’s taken a liking to you in her own special way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” _Don’t give up hope,_ that’s what he won’t say. _Don’t stop trying._ It’s nice having the blessing of someone who knows Kamilah as well as Adrian but doesn’t help her much in the long run.

As she’d packed without a nighttime party in mind — the more they tell her, too, the more she’s pretty sure it’s more a rave than a casual chit-chat over drinks — it takes Nadya longer to scramble up something to wear. But as with all things Lily’s voice echoes right in the back of her mind that a little bit of eyeliner makes a world of difference.

“Nadya? Are you almost ready?” Adrian’s knuckles tap on her closed door and the knob turns.

“Yup! Coming!” He enters just as she blinks in her last contact. For a moment he’s silent; it makes the internal panic grow inside her until she’s got both hands on her cheeks. _I’m wearing a bra, right? Right._

“W-What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Then he smiles. “I think the last time I saw you without your glasses was your first day. Someone you’re trying to impress?”

She rolls her eyes and pushes past him. Doesn’t know what Kamilah must have said to convince Adrian to join her at _La Soirée_ but he’s obviously going; all of his suits are made to fit but she’s never seen the sleek black number he’s constantly adjusting at the moment. Without a tie the collar of his silk shirt is open two buttons down and _damn, son_ would be Lily’s phrase and she would be very very right.

Nadya looks around for Kamilah but the vampire is nowhere to be found. She untucks her hair from behind her ears with a huff.

“She went down without us. She said you were taking too long.” Adrian teases. She gives a quick pat to check for her room key as they leave the apartment towards the stairs. “Since you don’t know your way around I was going to show you the way to the cellars before meeting up with her.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

The feeling of being escorted to a party by a chaperon aside, Nadya tries not to psych herself out as they descend further into the castle’s depths. Adrian nods his head at fellow vampires — all dressed in some form of seductive, sultry clothes — and points out the humans they’re following. She doesn’t feel so out of place at some but the way everyone chats and talks together makes her feel very out of the loop.

He stops in front of a closed door, the final stairwell on the other side. The distant thud of bass music can be heard beyond. “This is your stop.”

She swallows. “Are you sure I should go to this thing? I’m totally fine with Netflix and room service upstairs.”

But Adrian’s having none of it and gently pushes her forward with a hand on her lower back. “Go make friends. It’ll make tomorrow easier on you, I promise. Or, when in doubt, just get smashed and use the hangover as an excuse to not remember anyone’s name.”

“Adrian Rai —”

When she turns, however, he’s gone. Vanished in a blur of motion.

A couple descends down the stairs together in sync and out of sheer habit Nadya steps aside to let them enter first.

“You comin’, gorgeous?” asks one in a thick Scottish brogue. His arm is wrapped around his partner’s hip and their cheekbones shimmer with rainbow highlight. Beyond that they look like they could be going out for a night at the opera.

Nadya swallows and nods; follows as they hold out the door for her.

The Scot’s partner flashes her a wink and a grin. “First Awakening Ball, pet?”

“How could you tell?”

“I’ve a knack for it. Trust me — this is the most fun you’ll have all weekend.”

“Aye,” the Scot nods enthusiastically — the music starts to grow louder around them, “the Ball itself is fun and all but Marcel’s a stickler for tradition. Can’t grind up against a fellow in a hoop skirt.”

“Trust me; he speaks from experience.”

They introduce themselves as Brandon and his Scottish partner Greer just before they enter the Cellar; tell her to stick with them since they were fresh meat at _“the Y2K party that henceforth shall not be spoken of”_ and they know what it’s like to not fit in with the rest.

The music floods Nadya’s senses but she can’t pinpoint an exact source or DJ amid the flashing lights and various noises of revelry. It’s definitely a rave; they had that on-point. But the temporary nature of it all shows in the bottles on the walls gathering dust and the old-world feel of the concrete floor. It looks less like something planned and more like someone just happened to have a killer playlist and party supplies and wanted to try something out.

Brandon pulls one of the bottles from the wall and suddenly Greer has three wine glasses in hand. They coax her to drink cheerfully — _“this thing isn’t nearly half as fun sober”_ says Greer — but meet her glass for glass. And they’re not wrong. The party gets significantly more enjoyable once the wine sets in and she feels more fluid.

They dance a little — mostly the boys up on one another exchanging sloppy kisses that make Nadya wonder what stage the vampire orgy is at right then — and when the most human of human songs comes on Nadya can’t help but get into the groove.

_“Two hops this time! Right foot let’s stomp  
YEAH! Left foot let’s stomp  
YEAH! Cha-cha real smooth.”_

Red-faced with delight, Nadya is pulled down beside Brandon with a laugh while Greer magically appears at his partner’s side with a silver tray full of canapes. He feeds Brandon from hand to mouth; Nadya watching shamelessly as he sucks the seasoning from the man’s fingers with erotic delight. When he offers her one as well she throws caution to the wind and takes it between her teeth — strictly platonically.

“So how’d a little sugarplum like you end up on the invite list? Who holds your pretty pink leash?” Brandon asks; makes Nadya choke on her next sip of sweet wine.

“P-Pardon?”

Greer rolls his eyes. “Who’re you here with; is what he’s asking. Fucking slut.” It’s an insult he says with the same affection as one might compliment a spouse.

“Oh, right. I’m here with my boss.”

“Your _kinky _boss?”

“No, just my boss.” But that does make her wonder; make her look around at the other party-goers enjoying themselves. “Is that, uh, the sex thing; is that the whole theme of this? Everyone here is a… sex pet?”

She’s not judging them in the slightest but it does make things a little more complicated. Not that she’s sure Adrian wouldn’t keep her at his side even if it was a thing they had to pretend. But it wasn’t exactly what she signed up for.

Brandon pats her leg, practically falls over on the couch to do so. “No no, sweetheart. Ignore him — he took a few pills before we came downstairs. Some are for sure but there are a thousand and one reasons and lifestyles people have that give them cause to be here. If you say you’re just here as a work thing then hey — enjoy the amenities.”

“What about, uhm…” She gestures between them with her glass.

“We’re here with Bran’s sister.”

“She’s my twin, though it’s a bit harder to tell these days since she was Turned when we were nineteen.”

Does she look surprised? She’s trying her best not to look surprised. “Huh. That’s, well, erm…”

“Weird, yeah, but I’m not really into the immortality thing so she brings us along to fun stuff like this and I’m covered for forgetting anniversaries.” They laugh and exchange a sweeter kiss than the others. Greer mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like _“no you’re not”_ but she pretends not to hear.

The night seems endless. They drink, they laugh, they get up and dance and find more drinks in hand once they recover. She tries her best not to think of a world outside of the cellar walls; not of what Kamilah and Adrian might be getting up to, not of how Lily might be doing, and not of the dark things that haunt the streets.

Her new friends make it easier — every time they see Nadya’s eyes go distant they pull her towards some new thing or person that she simply _must _learn about.

It feels late in her bones but when she manages to ask the time over her clumsy tongue to someone with a watch the fact takes her by surprise: 15:37 isn’t an acceptable time to be this drunk at all.

The woman seems bemused at Nadya’s panic and pats her shoulder, offers her a glass of water that soothes the needles of wine left in her throat. “We’re running on the midnight hours here, remember?”

But the spell has been broken and it’s all Nadya’s fault. Or that’s how she thinks — how she struggles any thoughts at all. The cellar’s next hour is spent emptying in packs of threes and fours; of people kissing cheeks (and lips if they miss) with promises to see one another that night.

A Frenchly-dressed maid at the bottom of the stairwell hands out aspirins and bottles of water like after-party favors.

Greer’s not made any effort to return to sobriety but Brandon doesn’t mind. Gets aspirin onto his partner’s tongue through kisses and wipes the sweat from his brow with a shimmery hand.

“You take these—” he makes sure to close Nadya’s fist around five little miracle pills, “—and make sure you get your pert little arse upstairs and straight to bed. I won’t abide not seeing your lovely smile at the Ball. Am I clear?”

Nadya pockets the tablets and takes a long drink from her water. “Crystal.”

“Sure you don’t want us to take you back up to your room?”

“Na-dy-a’s ro—om!” Greer giggles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard.

“I appreciate it but I’m good. He doesn’t look like he’ll make it much farther anyway.” She kisses their cheeks and steals another bottle for the trip without shame.

* * *

What must have once been a beautiful and sun-lit hall now hangs shaded and in gloom. The heavy drapes are secured with golden clasps; steadfast soldiers in the vampire’s war against the daylight. She debates peeking through one but doubts the headache brewing in her temples would appreciate it very much.

Nadya’s not lost. Can’t be lost if you don’t know where you’re going. But when will she get the chance to explore a place like this again? She won’t go anywhere closed off — and there’s nothing wrong with taking the long way back.

Most of the ornamental double doors are closed. Some are roped off with velvet the same color as the drapes. But it’s enough to look at the splendor. Every third hallway she comes across Nadya remembers to take an aspirin.

Upon closer inspection she notices some rooms have plaques beside them. Gold plating on wood dark and shiny with lacquer. She doesn’t recognize any of the names; _the Dupont Conservatory, the Augustine Chapel._

Up a flight of stairs there’s only one door without a velvet barricade. Briefly Nadya catches her reflection in the golden tint of _the Banner Westbrook Memorial Library_ plaque and hastily rubs away a smear of something purple and shimmery from the corner of her lips.

“Take that as a sign,” she tells her reflection, and when she nods it agrees that it’s time for her to get on to bed.

A turn of her heel and three steps back towards the stairwell later she hears a voice.

_“My queen…”_

Since her life became a horror movie Nadya promised herself one thing: should anything remotely horror movie-like occur she would refuse to play into it and bolt for safety. That’s what the damsels in those kinds of movies never do. And that’s how they end up dead, gotten, or whatever terrible fate awaited them.

So she knows she should run.

She knows there’s safety just beyond; up the stairs and behind the apartment door. She’s certainly freaked out enough to keep it all in mind.

_“It isn’t like you to meddle in the affairs of mortals.”_

_“Think not of it as meddling; but rather securing an investment for the long-term.”_

Again the voice comes from nowhere and this time it’s got a friend. A friend that sounds an awful lot like Kamilah — which means she _really _needs to book it. But something stops the logic and reason from willing her body to move; to act. Keeps her there like a statue.

When the voice speaks this time Nadya swears it’s coming from two places at once. Both behind the closed library door and deep inside her mind.

_“I have been forced to act on the notions of unfit monarchs before. What makes a King; power, subjects? I’ll tell you…”_

With a shaky breath and a hot tear rolling down her cheek Nadya turns to look at the doors. Hears the voice as if the speaker stands right there, invisible but real. She wants to scream, to run, to lunge forward and rip the doors open. She just doesn’t know why.

_“Only one thing makes a King: his conviction. The rest will follow. As you, my Queen, my Soldier, my subjects — will follow.”_

Then a _bang._ A gunshot without the bullet, the smell of burning powder in the air. Nadya’s feet carry her away from the doors, away from the ringing in her ears, away from the voice that echoes a hollow laughter through the shadowy halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're finally at the Awakening Ball! Just who does Adrian get himself involved with? Keep reading to find out! And don't forget to tell your favorite fanfic author Happy Fanfiction Author Day! As always... Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you.


	11. The Many Discomforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamilah helps Nadya get dressed. A mysterious couple surprise the attendees of the Awakening Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not posting yesterday's update -- hopefully _two_ chapters today makes up for it!
> 
> **chapter trigger warnings:** language, mild nsfw content

She doesn’t tell either of them about the voices she heard outside the Library.

Part of her isn’t entirely sure she even heard anything. She had more alcohol last night than in her entire undergrad career and there could have been something in the air or the food that could lead to hearing… weird voices… And if she _does _choose to cast aside her veil of doubt — what would she even say?

Especially remembering one of those voices sounded an awful lot like Kamilah.

Kamilah who spends the entire evening doing what Nadya’s pretty sure is the two-thousand year old equivalent of pouting because apparently Adrian ditched her last night for some fun of his own.

“Well we did want him to unwind a bit, I guess?” Nadya tries to be a good friend; tries to defend him.

But their petty little fight means she can’t pry from either one of them how Kamilah spent _her _night. Or who she spent her night with. So she’s having her own little huff.

“One moment he was off coaxing donors into our booth and he didn’t even have the decency to announce that he’d been propositioned,” Kamilah continues her argument like Nadya was nothing more than a gust of wind, “and such things simply aren’t done in polite society.”

“I had a good night.” She shrugs it off but catches the way Kamilah pauses mid-air before grabbing her hairbrush. Her tone suddenly catching disinterest.

“Did you now?”

“Yeah. Met a really sweet couple. They’re here with one’s sister. I’m gonna try and find them again tonight.”

“Good. Though I would advise you stay close to Adrian and myself for the majority of the evening.”

“Why?” Nadya peers into Kamilah’s designer makeup bag seriously. It’s pretty much a bag full of money, right?

She sets her brush down gently; gives Nadya a serious look despite her gentle tone. “Have you forgotten already? Somehow you’ve made enemies on the Council by merely existing.”

_Right,_ Nadya nods in silence. The Baron and Senator Vega were guaranteed to be in attendance… but they wouldn’t jeopardize the Ball itself to settle some sort of score with her — would they?

There’s a knock on the door and Kamilah blurs to it before Nadya can even turn her head. She peers around the doorway to see her let in Adrian — bearing a large black garment bag.

“Sorry,” he greets them both with a smile, “I think I left my card here.”

“Did Priya actually come through?” Kamilah takes the bag from him with a tone of sarcastic surprise. Unzips the top to peer at the contents within with a satisfied smile.

Adrian nods. “She wasn’t happy about having to bring it here but I promised her a suitable trade.”

“That would be…?”

“Raines Corporation sponsorship at her next show.”

Feeling like she needs to announce her presence Nadya clears her throat. Earns a bright grin from Adrian and a raised eyebrow from Kamilah. Though there’s no denying the subtle smirk joining it.

Adrian passes Kamilah to pour himself a glass of whiskey. “Did you tell her yet?”

“And spoil the surprise? Never.” The way she looks at Adrian — like all of her frustrations have gone away, their importance weighed against the eternity going forwards and back and found wanting — makes Nadya question just who the surprise is for.

Another soft cough and she’s going to break her neck if she looks back and forth any quicker. “Someone gonna enlighten me?”

“Do you want to show her?” asks Adrian. Kamilah drapes the bag over the back of a chair and retreats into their room to continue her routine.

“Shooow me what?”

“Well we figured you didn’t have anything that fit the theme of the Ball in your wardrobe.” He explains and grabs the bag to hang it over the front of the armoire in Nadya’s room. Starts pulling down the zipper before she can even follow.

“I thought what I brought was okay! Kamilah — you told me it was okay!”

Nadya looks at the dress she’s laid out on the room’s second bed. Sure it’s the same dress from the event at the Gallery but that whole _‘never caught wearing the same thing twice’_ thing was only a movie trope, right? And even if it wasn’t only Kamilah and Adrian would be able to call her out on it.

_What?_ It was expensive. And she fully intends to get her money’s worth out of it.

Adrian worries his bottom lip with vestiges of guilt. “It’s a _nice _choice, yes. But as Kamilah and I were planning to adhere to the theme — we figured it was the least we could do.”

He peels the black panels apart and takes Nadya’s breath away. She’s never found blue that attractive but somehow the dress looks both like a cloudless summer day and sparkles with night-time stars. Little Nadya, the girl who wanted nothing more in life than to be a princess, squeals deep in her heart but the adult on the outside simply can’t find the words.

He pulls out the skirts to let their size show proudly. Brushes his fingertips along the satiny fabric of the bodice and even at a distance she can tell it’s buttery; utterly perfect.

“Well,” Adrian looks as excited as she feels, “what do you think?”

It takes her brain a second to catch hold of her tongue. “Wait, you said Priya? As in —”

“Don’t think about that. Don’t think about the money, or who made it, or any of that. Just tell me what you think — really think.”

With a lot of effort Nadya tamps down years of apology-laden refusals. Reaches down inside to let that little princess girl shine through.

She bounces on the balls of her bare feet.

“I think I need some glass slippers.”

“They’re not glass — trust me on this one — but Kamilah has you covered.”

Then her arms are thrown around his neck and she’s kissing the same stubbly spot on his cheek over and over; she’s pretty sure she might have gotten a little spit on her boss but _who the heck cares?_

“It’s beautiful.”

“You really think?”

“I really _really _think.”

Coaxing her away, Adrian grabs the door handle on his exit. “Then I’ll leave you to get ready. We’ll be heading down in a few hours.”

Taking in the beauty of the dress before her is almost enough to make Nadya forget about the voice in the library. _Almost._

“Adrian?”

Maybe a normal person wouldn’t have caught her soft voice; would have kept going and ventured off to prepare without a care. But Adrian’s not normal. Maybe that’s what she’s hoping for deep down.

“Hm — you say something?” He peeks his head around the door; blinks with an innocence that makes Nadya’s heart sink into her stomach.

She can’t ruin his evening.

“I just wanted to… to really make sure you know how much I appreciate this.” Holding up a bit of the dress skirts, she gives him the widest smile she can muster without seeming fake. If he doesn’t believe her he doesn’t show it.

“You deserve it.”

In the time that follows Nadya really thinks about that — considers wildly that he might be right. After everything that’s happened so far this may be the one thing she needs to actually celebrate for herself. To celebrate something good happening to her.

It’s so easy to get swept up in the bad; the Baron, Lily, Vega, that the good things get harder and harder to cling on to.

So this — this she’s not letting go of.

Until she very much wants to throw this dumb dress down some sort of chute into an incinerator. _Old fashioned places like these have those, right? I need to find one._ Because god, putting it on is pretty much impossible! She’s tried shoving herself into it in various directions nearly five times and, standing in nothing but her underthings with the deepest and most hate-filled frown she can muster, debates her plan of action for the sixth.

There’s a noise of bemusement behind her and Nadya almost misses it — almost cares _too much_ about her perfect mental image of taking her mother’s sewing shears and cutting the thing into ribbons with maniacal glee — almost.

_Almost._

With no dignity whatsoever she turns on her heel, shouts something that sounds an awful lot like _“Eeep,”_ and tries to cover herself against Kamilah’s eyes with the complimentary dressing gown from the bathroom.

_What are you doing, this is a good thing!_ Says the part of her brain that stopped making good choices the moment she realized she had a crush. And though normally her rational side usually came up with a good excuse… it’s falling a bit short at the moment.

“Kamilah! Knock please!”

The look the vampire gives her of _oh, really_ isn’t entirely unwarranted.

The last time she had a roommate she needed to knock for was back when she lived at home. Lily, knocking? What a laughable idea. And habits die hard… until they’re driven into you by a privacy-inclined Kamilah.

She saunters into the room like she owns it. Technically, she kinda does. Not like something that trivial would stop her anyway. Like a jaguar on the prowl she circles Nadya, makes her little human heart work harder than it has in her entire life, before she stops and takes stock of the dress and its components.

“Relax; it’s nothing I haven’t seen already.” Kamilah gently cuffs the sleeves of her own sheer gown — _oh holy Mother Mary she needs to tie that belt tighter_ — and starts working on the lacing of the whalebone corset. “Am I correct in assuming you’ve never worn one of these before?”

With a negative level of grace Nadya pulls the backwards robe off, lets it fall to the plush carpeting.

“I mean, if Ren Faire counts?”

Kamilah’s nose twitches slightly. She’s gotten to know at least a few of the woman’s little ticks — the nose being one of them. Confusion but too much pride (or too little care) to want to know more.

“You know,” Nadya moves her hips like somehow that will explain everything for her, “the Renaissance Faire? Jousting and knights and giant turkey legs bigger than your head?”

“Sounds like they got the period wrong… unsurprising.”

“Oh, right.”

Kamilah pulls the last lacing aside and holds it up in both hands. Normally it would take Nadya a few seconds to understand what’s going on but since she’s pretty sure she’s had this dream before the usual brain-delay doesn’t apply. There’s been plenty of time to pinch herself awake tonight already. _She’s very much awake._

Slowly Nadya turns her back towards Kamilah; awkwardly raises her arms out only because she doesn’t know what to do with them.

Like with all things Kamilah takes the lead; she’s not a woman who abides ignorance and simply educates along the way. The cool touch of her fingers sends gooseflesh racing down Nadya’s arms as she’s positioned—not unlike a mannequin—with her arms slightly above her head and just enough space for Kamilah to wrap the corset around her front and begin securing the laces in the back.

“You’ll feel a little —” she tugs and knocks the air from Nadya’s lungs, “— discomfort. Seeing as this is your first time.” There’s a breath of silence and Kamilah’s next words sound almost like appraisal: “Though you have the figure for it.”

Nadya fumbles for a response, manages a stuttered out _“thank you”_ as the form-fitting fabric begins to press harder around her middle.

“This way. Move with me.”

Kamilah taps the back of her leg to coax her forward. Nadya, dazed and growing hotter by the moment, complies in a stupor. Suddenly finds herself with her hands braced against the ornamental wall with nothing but the solid presence of the vampire behind her.

“Good. Now hold that stance. Your fore-mothers were quite insistent that beauty come at a price.”

Her laugh comes out a breathless whimper; makes her go scarlet in embarrassment when she takes note of Kamilah’s brief hesitancy before continuing.

Each pull of the strings is painful pressure — shaping, twisting, mangling her — for the corset’s desired shape. Kamilah surprises her with patience joining her firm touch. Her strength only needs one good pull to get the job done but she gives Nadya time to find the width of her new breath before moving on.

Only Kamilah’s very presence isn’t helping her find her breath in the slightest.

Neither is the hand that suddenly falls onto her newly-shaped hip.

“Relax,” Kamilah croons in her ear, lets her thumb trace a soft and comforting circle just below the corset’s base, “the more you think about it the more your body resists.”

Another noise comes out a note higher and Nadya spits hair out of her mouth. “No offense but you never had to breathe in one of these things.”

There’s a genuine laugh behind her; melodious and gentle. Something Nadya’s never heard the equal of but longs for the moment it fades. _Laugh like that again,_ she wants to say — doesn’t, _let me remember it for the rest of my life._

“True enough. Now ready yourself; last one.”

The hand vanishes, leaves her skin feeling cold and alone. She braces her sweating palms against the wall once more and on the count of two Kamilah pulls one last time and secures the lacing.

Just as Nadya readies herself to figure out how to breathe on her own there’s a weight on her hips. Kamilah’s nails dig softly into the swell of her body. There’s definitely not enough oxygen going to her brain.

It’s the kind of quiet that rings in her ears. Makes her want to fill it with mindless chatter, the television on in the background, something. But Kamilah’s a fan of it — like the masochist she is. Says it’s good for emptying the well of her thoughts but Nadya just can’t come to terms with it.

Until now. Because if anyone were to say anything she’s pretty sure she’d throttle them.

Finally Kamilah speaks; something rich like caramel on her tongue that makes Nadya’s body react in ways she’s forgotten. Makes her thighs tremble like they’re straining to hold her up.

“Better now?”

When she breathes it’s easier; it’s _been _easier, became easier while she was frantically thinking up something to say or do to break the tension between them. And she didn’t even notice.

“Uh — Mmhm.”

The pressure of centuries lives on her hipbones — Nadya turns with the woman’s touch until they’re face-to-face. She knows it’s just so Kamilah can make sure her work has yielded success but it makes her want to fly away to whatever place in the clouds her reason has gone. It’s gotta be freakin’ nice up there.

Kamilah hums — taps her fingertip against her lips for a moment before she moves. Nadya closes her eyes like she’s bracing for some sort of apocalypse-level impact.

The sudden frigid touch releases a trapped noise from inside her. There’s absolutely no way Kamilah doesn’t know what she’s doing; doesn’t know the reactions she’s getting aren’t utterly shameful. Doesn’t know there’s no way in heaven, hell, or anything in between that cupping Nadya’s flushed breasts where they rest trapped within the corset to adjust them isn’t going to drive her absolutely insane.

Nadya squeezes her eyes shut. Bites on her bottom lip so hard it hurts, so hard there’s definitely going to be an indent for hours, and waits for Kamilah to be satisfied with her work.

“Much better. You can open your eyes now, Nadya.”

Only she wishes she hadn’t — finds herself staring in the depths of Kamilah’s soul filled with ice so cold it burns her from the inside out. She knows what she’s done, what she’s wrought. And when her tongue wets her bottom lip and sends Nadya keening into an octave she didn’t know she could reach she knows that, too, was as purposeful as everything else.

There’s a cinematic version of Nadya in her head that would absolutely throw every caution to the wind and surge forward in a kiss. That version would press Kamilah down onto the bed — maybe even on top of the dress — and release all their tension in a rush of tangled tongues and the sting of teeth colliding.

That version is much braver than the reality.

“All — _ah _— All good?” she chokes out.

Kamilah’s brows knit together. “Indeed. Is that all you have to say?”

She barely has the time to consider a response before her hands are trapped above her head in an immortal grip.

Kamilah bears down upon her; every inch the perfect predator. Just when Nadya’s certain her heart is actually trying to push it’s way out of her chest she sees a flicker of red in those dark, alluring eyes and finds herself caught between reality and whatever dream she’s had but forgotten that makes all this feel like deja-vu.

She’s got a lot more to say. She just doesn’t know how to say it.

And like with all things — she ruins it. Her hesitance isn’t something Kamilah wants, makes her back off a vampire-step back, crossing the room backwards and putting a world of wants and desires between them.

_Way to go,_ says the Lily-voice in Nadya’s mind. It takes her longer to recover her breath against the strain of the corset.

Maybe it’s a trick of the light; the way Kamilah takes advantage of the space to look Nadya over bodily. And maybe it isn’t.

“I — I should, uhm…” Nadya runs clammy hands over her face and gestures to the dress as a sudden exhaustion fills her from head to toe, “but thank you for helping. Really.”

Kamilah says nothing. Nods curtly and leaves. And that’s how Nadya knows she’s going to have a very _very _long night.

* * *

With all guests — human and vampire alike — heading to the same place this time around Nadya gets a full dose of reality of the attendees and their numbers. It makes her keep close to Kamilah and Adrian as they descend towards the Grand Ballroom.

It’s harder to tell the difference between them; at least to her mortal senses. No doubt the vampires know one another by sight. But she takes in the splendor of costumes from every period and society she ever read about in school; smiles sheepishly as they pass what looks like a Japanese samurai in full regalia accosting a Renaissance painter.

Nadya briefly touches the bodice of her dress; rolls her shoulders to shift her body back into a comfortable place.

“Are you in discomfort?” Kamilah asks quietly beside her.

They’d all departed the room together; all shared a toast of some strong honey-tinted cognac beforehand. It was like the whole thing hadn’t happened to Kamilah — except for the fact that Nadya can’t seem to meet her eye to eye.

With a pursed smile on her flushed cheeks Nadya shakes her head. “No — well, no more than I already was. You… uhm…”

_Great, really great._ Of course she has to fumble again, has to not know what to say again. And honestly this time the twinge of disappointment she sees reflected in Kamilah’s eyes is one she shares. _Dumb girl._

The crowd bottlenecks at a pair of large and lavish double doors. The music of a live orchestra dances on the air out into the hall over the conversational chatter. Maybe Nadya’s imagining it but the air carries the faint smell of lavender.

They file in behind the rest — Nadya cranes her head to see what’s holding them all up.

Two footmen stand against either side of the doorway with heavy-looking leather ledgers in their hands. They take down the name of the attendant in front of them before taking turns with announcing the guest’s arrival.

“Lady Genevieve, and guest!”

“Mansa Adebayo, and celebrated Olamide!”

“Monsieur Robespierre!”

With a startled gasp Nadya smacks Adrian’s arm. “That’s not… No way!”

Adrian quickly looks to Kamilah; whose face has been beset by a deep scowl.

“Indeed it is,” Adrian replies, “but he’s been banned from Marcel’s very presence up until, well, now.”

“He must have done something considerably generous to earn forgiveness.” muses Kamilah.

The footman calls out another name: “Celebrated Nicholas Hall!”

“What does that mean,” she asks them, “when they say _‘celebrated?’”_

Adrian coaxes them all into the left branch of the line as he explains. “I told you the Awakening Ball is a celebration first, remember? It celebrates the newly Turned of the decade. It’s more of a bigger deal if you were Turned within a year or two of the party, but anyone new is welcome to come.”

“If they have the connections for an invitation.”

“Well… yes.”

She doesn’t have to say it — one look down and Adrian knows what she’s thinking. It makes him lean down and whisper in her ear.

“It would be too dangerous for her to be here. If anyone recognized her as a local we’d run the risk of exposing her Turning.”

“I know.” Nadya replies in the same monotone. Yes, she knows. And she’s come to terms with it. Doesn’t stop her from feeling, though; from missing Lily and knowing she’d enjoy something like this so-freakin’-much.

When the trio comes up to their footman Kamilah takes the lead. “You’re here on my invitation,” Adrian reminds her quietly. Whatever title Kamilah gives makes the announcer — human; somehow Nadya can just tell — go flushed as he tries to keep up with it all. She tries to peer close enough to see it but the block of fresh black ink is unreadable from their distance.

A nonplussed Kamilah turns herself towards the ballroom without thought to the way the footman trips over his tongue. Nadya almost feels bad for the guy.

“Ah — ahem… the Esteemed Kamilah Sayeed; Nomarch of Maten, Founder and CEO of Ahmanet Financial Holdings, Leader of Clan Sayeed of New York, and member of the Council of New York.”

Even without microphones the announcement carries. Makes the crowds closest to the doors stop in their tracks — some mid-word — all to turn and witness Kamilah’s entrance.

She walks with a different kind of grace than Nadya is used to seeing. Kamilah will probably always be the exact opposite of the dictionary definition of _‘humble’_ but there’s a different kind of pride in the rise of her chin and a rigidity in her spine.

Like she’s a queen putting on airs for her subjects; like she knows exactly how to catch their attentions. Nadya’s, too.

Adrian’s cold hand on her bare shoulder-blade rouses her out of the hypnosis of Kamilah’s entry.

“Come on. We’re next.”

Suddenly the footman seems daunting. Who could follow an arrival like that?

“Name and title, ser,” the footman doesn’t even bother looking up from his ledger as Adrian slowly articulates his name and title — and follows with one for Nadya too.

“Just follow my lead.” Mutters Adrian, and together they take their position to enter.

The right footman announces his guest and the woman steps forward with her dress train trailing several feet behind her. Arm linked tightly against Adrian’s, Nadya holds her breath.

“Adrian Raines; Founder and CEO of the Raines Corporation, Leader of Clan Raines of New York, member of the Council of New York, and guest _Mademoiselle _Nadya Al Jamil of Clan Raines.”

Red does not go with the shade of blue her dress is but that doesn’t stop her from being a literal tomato as they make their way inside.

_“Mademoiselle,_ really?”

Adrian gives her a half-grin. “It’s not every day you get to be announced. I figured that’s one down for the bucket list.”

“I’m too young for a bucket list.” She grumbles, and wants to snatch the words from the air and shove them back in her mouth until her cheeks are full but she can’t, not with a ton of eyes on her, so she just watches them fly away with regret.

They follow the current of guests mingling their way into the Ball. Kamilah’s already been plunged into the depths — Nadya has to pull Adrian by their linked arms when she spots her over by the place where the dance floor meets arrays of standing tables.

As they approach Adrian’s face lights up. “Oh, good, she’s found Marcel.”

At first glance it looks like Kamilah’s in deep conversation with someone’s lost child. A child who matches the ballroom and the decor of the workers far better than any other. Their fast-paced French dies once the pair are within earshot and the child — who is very much not a child when Nadya meets his eyes — beams in delight when he sees Adrian.

Marcel Lafayette, the owner of the castle and the Awakening Ball’s illustrious host, had to have been Turned on the cusp of puberty; that point where children are starting to grow into their abnormally sized proportions but still maintain those round cheeks and slightly too-big ears. But children—regular children—have a sparkle in their eyes. They haven’t lost their innocence, haven’t seen how hard and cruel the world can be when it wants to.

Marcel has no such light. It’s like looking into a void. And it makes Nadya want to cry.

“Adrian, _mon coeur!”_ Adrian has to nudge Nadya away as he ends up with arms full of exuberant young vampire. Marcel presses a butterfly kiss to Adrian’s cheeks; protests with a slight whine as his perfect golden curls are ruffled in response. _“Non!_ Not my hair! You know this took me hours!”

Kamilah scoffs but the fondness on her face is unlike any Nadya has ever seen.

_“C’est faux, Marcel,_ and you know it.”

“Well…” His mischievous smirk falters as his eyes fall on Nadya — namely on her dress. Every imitation the young boy at a grown-up party, Marcel clasps his hands behind his back and steps up to her to give a low bow.

“Forgive me, _mademoiselle,_ for not noticing you before. With beauty such as yours you must be some sort of princess, _non?”_

Before Nadya can make a fool of herself the young man takes her hand and kisses the back of it — eases her into their greeting.

“This is the mortal I was speaking of,” Kamilah offers, “Nadya; Adrian’s guest.”

“I’m his assistant-slash-secretary, actually.” She corrects with pink cheeks. “I’ve heard good things about you from Adrian and Kamilah, Marcel. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Oh, I like her.”

Adrian’s honestly never looked so proud. “I do, too.”

Beside her Kamilah gives a soft and derisive laugh. “You haven’t seen the sheer amount of sugary sweets she can put away.”

“A-Anyway!” Only she doesn’t have anything to interrupt the conversation with and Kamilah knows it in the look in her eyes.

Marcel takes both Adrian and Kamilah’s hands in his and squeezes them fondly. “It’s been so long since I’ve had two of my favorite people in the same room. Especially since _someone _chose not to attend the last Ball!”

Under his glare Adrian at least looks ashamed. “If it had been any other night I could have come! I sent Kamilah with my apology.”

“Oh, was _that _what I forgot to bring along?” Her fake embarrassment makes Adrian’s jaw drop. “How forgetful of me…”

“The past is the past — of course you are forgiven. Just don’t do it again.”

“I don’t plan on —”

As far back as they are it’s difficult to hear the footmen and their announcements over the other voices. That is until someone hits the mute button on the party save the orchestra — and even they falter in a brief confusion before steadying their harmony.

Nadya strains to hear; her mortal ears letting her down. But whatever is called — whoever has arrived — has her friends in a strange way.

Marcel’s fingertips touch his rouged lips. He pulls a lace-woven fan from his breast pocket and fans himself frantically.

_“Quelle surprise…_ I didn’t think they’d really come. I had to send their invitations so far!”

It’s luck and maybe a little bit of cosmic intervention on Nadya’s behalf when she catches the sight of Kamilah’s expression before she can ask who _‘they’_ are. Darkness — an empty well where only the echoes of the lost ring among the stones.

_Who the hell just showed up?_

Kamilah steps closer to her young friend; lowers her voice so much that Nadya almost misses it.

“Where did you find them?”

“A small village,” Marcel whispers back, “on the border of Auvernal and Cordonia.”

“And you chose to invite them because…?”

“Because they’re family, Kamilah. And I miss them so.”

The young lord seems to remember himself, then. Stops whispering and straightens his spine like he’s just been reprimanded by a nanny. For the second time Nadya watches with wonder as Marcel Lafayette shifts from elated lad to wizened man.

The still-silent crowd parts in a sea of wealth and finery as a couple approaches.

They fit in with the rest of the jumble of history’s wealthiest fashions, all it takes is a glance to know they aren’t wearing costumes but the real thing. Dark emerald woven tight and sheer against the woman’s lithe figure and etched with golden thread that looks like it was spun from sunlight. The fresh aroma of the man’s bay laurel; the almost staged way his toga and wrappings cascade in a waterfall of fabric down to his sandaled feet.

Together they are easily the most beautiful things in the room. And underneath the surface, even from afar, Nadya is certain they know it, too. It takes her a moment to realize what else she feels from them; she doesn’t really understand until they’re in the same frame of sight as Kamilah.

She looks dwarfed in comparison. _Young._

Whoever these vampires are… they’re so old they make Kamilah look gentile.

Then Marcel’s bowing beside her, and Kamilah’s eyes are cast down in her curtsy. Makes Nadya hastily grip the edges of her dress and bend her knee in something that would embarrass any actual royalty. _Oh crap, are they actual vampire royalty?_

Only Adrian remains standing. Which is definitely unlike him. Has Nadya looking through the curtain of her hair to see the unabashed surprise in his slack jaw.

_“Domine,”_ Kamilah addresses curtly; stares directly into the man’s eyes as though he’s just made a threat on her life.

Instead the man in the laurel wreath gives a deep bow to Marcel.

“Young Lord Lafayette. Isseya and I were surprised to receive your invitation, and wished to apologize in person for not securing our place. I hope we’re not intruding…”

Marcel’s curls bounce with the vigor with which he shakes his head. _“Non,_ not at all! I’m glad the invitations got to you in time.”

The woman, Isseya, laughs with her eyes more than her lips.

“Thank you for sending one for each of us, darling boy. The gesture was a kind one, and they were _decadent.”_ And Nadya remembers, then, the woman who brought their invite. Her stomach flips upside-down.

Nadya catches a strange noise beside her. Turns to see Adrian looking at Isseya and her companion with an expression she can’t put a word on. But she’s definitely never seen it before. It makes her lean in with a hand on his arm, ready to help how she can.

“Adrian —”

“Ah, so _that _is your name.” The man’s interruption makes Nadya jump — shivers running down her spine. There’s an almost erotic appraisal in his eyes as he and his companion both smile at Adrian.

“We were hoping to catch you again tonight,” and Nadya does _not _like the way Isseya’s words dissolve into a purr, not one bit, “Valdas —” she strokes the robed man’s arm with her fingertips, “— is not easily so impressed after a single encounter.”

Several times Adrian opens and closes his mouth in an attempt to speak. Eventually gives way to the silence when he realizes they would wait however long to hear his thoughts.

“I’m, ah, well that is to say…”

Valdas chuckles in bemusement. “Still speechless?”

“Give the poor thing a chance. You did keep him on the edge well until dawn.”

Adrian finally finds his voice — if strained. “When I agreed to join you two for… last night’s events, I wasn’t aware you were —”

“The Trinity?” Valdas supplies for him. Makes Adrian give a curt nod.

Kamilah, meanwhile, is fuming. “You spent _La Soirée_ with _the Trinity?”_

“Don’t sound so pious, Kamilah. Your age surely hasn’t affected your memory so. I seem to recall…”

Isseya trails off when Valdas holds up his hand — but she doesn’t really _need _to say anything more. It’s all in her eyes. And Nadya’s struggle to keep up really doesn’t need the visuals.

Everything in Kamilah’s glare to Adrian screams _‘We’re not done.’_

The tension is starting to make Nadya sweat and that’s the last thing she wants in a room full of people with enhanced noses. So she does the most Nadya thing she can and offers her hand out to the pair.

“Well since you all know each other I guess I’m the only one left,” she says cheerily; “I’m Nadya — Adrian’s assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

She squeaks when Isseya brings her hand up to kiss the back. Feels the smolder in that immortal gaze that makes it harder to breathe than it already is. Her hand is traded off like a party favor. Valdas’ beard tickles his kiss.

“Yes… he mentioned having a mortal companion.”

“All good mentions — I hope?”

Valdas nods. “Adequate, indeed. I am Valdas of Persepolis. I present Isseya; High Priestess of Valdemaras.”

Something about the title makes Kamilah twitch — Nadya catches it out of the corner of her eye.

“Is that some Roman god they didn’t cover in the history books?”

Valdas’ eyes flash red.

“I assure you I was worshiped long before the Romans invented their feeble pantheon.”

If there’s ever a time to say _“Well, this is awkward”_ it would be now — only she doesn’t because she prefers her head right where it is on her neck.

Luckily Marcel comes to the rescue. Pushes his way in the middle of the older vampires and grabs their hands — definitely the most uncomfortable family-style image Nadya’s ever seen — to drag them off in another direction. More guests to greet. More awkwardness to not have in their immediate vicinity.

The world narrows down like some sort of slow-motion film; Kamilah turning her heel with an entire scolding already on the tip of her tongue. Nadya looks around in a panic for something — _anything _— to _not,_ and spots the most dangerous weapon of all approaching on a literal silver platter.

“Hold it!” She holds up a literal finger to pause them and makes a mad dash; returns to watch the vampires’ confusion quickly evolve into rightly-felt panic.

Kamilah looks between Nadya and her prize with pursed lips. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Giving you… uh…” _should’ve thought this through better…_ “— a choice. I’m giving you — both of you — a choice.”

Adrian holds up his hands with caution. “Nadya, think about what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think. Come on, now. All my best ideas are complete erratic impulse.”

“I wouldn’t mark this down as one of your best.”

“What exactly is this… choice?” Kamilah asks.

Now filled with a confidence unlike any before, Nadya gives both of them a stern finger.

“Your choice is this: either you two table whatever is going on — or I eat _this.”_

She holds up the metal skewer in all its glory; slowly turns the handle so Kamilah and Adrian can see every gruesome detail of each of the five cubes of gourmet cheese impaled on it. She’s never been a fan of fancy cheeses; prefers her food to smell as good as it tastes which is very rarely the case with such things.

But she’s deadly serious and they know it. Especially when Adrian steps forward to take it and Nadya jerks away into the path of another server.

“Okay — okay. We’ll save it for later. I’d rather wait anyway.” He looks to Kamilah and feels his panic rise at her stubborn refusal. “Kamilah…”

“You’re going to let a mortal threaten you with something so trivial?”

He doesn’t even have to think it over. “Yes.”

Only when she looks between them and realizes their seriousness — and possibly loses a chunk of respect for both of them — does Kamilah relent.

“Fine,” with a flippant wave of her hand, “very well, whatever you must hear. But this will not go undiscussed, Adrian.”

Nadya lowers her dairy-carved threat. “Just don’t do it now. We’re gonna have a good-freakin’-time. Got it?”

Kamilah’s stuffy “Yes” and Adrian’s resigned “Okay” are enough for her. Who ever said lactose intolerance wasn’t useful?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the Awakening Ball begins... Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you.


	12. The Painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Awakening Ball is in full swing and the party mood is infectious. But Nadya's natural curiosity isn't always a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** language, alcohol, violence, strangulation, grief of a loved one, panic attacks, gore, hallucinations, death

Luckily the orchestra waits to start playing dancing music until she’s two glasses of champagne in and suitably bubbly enough to join.

Adrian offers his hand and promises not to resent her for her two left feet. It’s pretty much the same sweeping classical waltz in every period drama ever but when she starts to lose what little grace she has Adrian picks up the slack — literally. He picks her up off her feet and carries the weight of them both. Lucky for Nadya the skirts on her dress make it impossible for anyone to notice.

Not like anyone would notice her hovering off the floor, anyway. Not when her pining eyes catch sight of Kamilah dancing with a Duchess of some sort in the middle of the crowd.

“I’m sorry.” Adrian whispers in her ear. It only helps because he means it. Because he squeezes her waist a little tighter and does a flashy thing that raises her up in the air with a whoop of joy.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” she’s not lying to Adrian but rather to herself and he knows it, “I’m used to the whole ‘one-sided affection’ thing.”

They part with a bow and curtsy, have to weave together with held hands as guests switch partners and move into a new beat and tempo.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“All part of the finite package.” Because yes, being surrounded by vampires both new and old (and the humans too, but she doesn’t know many of them now does she?) has her thinking about things like that. Who wouldn’t?

Before he can counter with his usual Adrian-brand of optimism Nadya catches sight of familiar faces by a fountain of red wine — or she _hopes _it’s red wine. _God she hopes it’s red wine._ She waves eagerly and drags Adrian over to socialize.

Brandon chokes on his sip as he takes in her dress. “Well well! Look what the cat dragged in — and this time sans yoga pants. Bless, I’m so proud.”

In the middle of shaking Greer’s hand Adrian falters. Frowns slightly and already has his arm up to push Nadya back. Like there’s nothing more threatening around them than a gay man with an opinion. “I — what are you implying?”

“Relax Adrian. He’s making a joke about last night.”

“Down, boy-o,” Greer joins in on the teasing, “not that the guard dog routine isn’t mad sexy. We’re just glad to see our girl made it to the actual event.”

Nadya huffs. “I wasn’t _that _drunk.” The couple exchange an eye roll and even she has a hard time resisting the sass of their combined stare. “Okay, okay! So I was… kinda hammered.”

“Well I’ll give them that one. You originally passed out in Kamilah’s bed.”

It’s something everyone but Nadya seems to find extremely funny. Namely because she doesn’t remember that but she can still hear the voice she’d hallucinated clear as day. It makes her hesitate and think twice about taking a glassful of the fountain’s spoils.

At least her friends are getting along. _At least she has friends._

Not long after Brandon waves over a younger woman and introduces her as his twin sister and their vampire connection, Megan. Age difference aside Nadya can definitely see the resemblance but can’t help herself when she feels a little sorry for Brandon’s fate. For the faded freckles on his cheeks and the lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

Megan and Adrian trade comments on vampire life over the last two decades — he offers her and Brandon and Greer a place to stay in New York should they ever need it. There’s a strangely somber air in how the trio thanks him — like a sigh of relief connects them all body and mind.

Greer manages to coax one more drink into her the same way he coaxes her out onto the dance floor. Everything shines with flickering candlelight and the collected jewels and precious metals from all of human history. It’s wonderful, it’s beautiful, it’s _magical._

And everyone — every single person — is filled with the same kind of joy and carefree abandon. For a little bit there’s no Feral outbreak in the heart of the city, there’s no fearing for her life or missing her old apartment and missing best friend.

There’s nothing else in the entire world but this Ball, the people attending it, and the memories made.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this!” Nadya announces; uses the spins she’s getting in the head to carry her momentum away from Greer to where Megan is ready to trade partners as well. The music has taken a turn for the boisterous — some Celtic ballad accompanied by an impromptu song from a group of rugged-dressed Highlander attendees.

She reaches out — her fingertips brush the other vampire’s — then the dizziness overtakes her and Nadya feels like she’s hurtling through the sky in freefall.

Comes back to herself to find the decor that was on the other side of the room now much closer. And Kamilah’s hands hold her against the rushing wave in her head.

She wants to laugh — wants to share in the joy of the moment with the one person she wants to make smile more than anything else in the world — but like always Kamilah just leaves her breathless, gasping as they move through the weaving dancers effortlessly.

“Perhaps you’ve had a tad too much wine.” Kamilah admonishes without heat behind her words.

“I’m perfectly sobe — _ack!”_ The word morphs into a desperate cry as Kamilah’s grip slackens. Feigns like she’s going to let Nadya go when she definitely doesn’t have the ability to stand on her own two feet right now. She clings on so hard she can feel every woven fiber of her red dress.

“You were saying?”

“Humans get dizzy, Kamilah. It’s a real thing.”

“Ah, yes. How forgetful of me.”

_If you ruin this moment I’ll never forgive you,_ Nadya thinks to herself — actually takes her own advice for once and just loses all thought and worry in the way Kamilah sweeps her along the floor to the beat. Where their skirts clash like fire and ice but never so much that she can’t feel the solid presence of the woman holding her steady.

When the dance ends a gathering in the middle of the floor all comes together to take hands. Kamilah pulls them away; out into the conversational talkers and wallflowers. It’s eerie how the vampire simply watches Nadya catch her breath — a beauty she’s still foreign to.

“Drink.”

Nadya looks up to see Kamilah holding a glass out to her. She can feel the coolness of the water sliding down her throat, serving as a reminder of just how flustered she actually is.

She remembers at the last second to not wipe her mouth with the back of her arm. Manages a fluttering smile. “T-Thanks.”

Electricity zips through her body then — Kamilah’s touch lifting her chin towards the crystal chandeliers overhead. It reminds her of only a few hours ago in a way her body never got to recover from. A thousand candles lit in her belly all at the same time. Luckily she has the dance to mask her reaction.

All just so the woman can wipe a stray drop of water from the corner of her mouth.

_Conversation, girl, come on!_ She could ask Kamilah any number of things. Familiar faces, balls gone by, even the last time she danced to something so jovial. But there’s a big stone wall between her thoughts and her mouth and it makes Nadya’s heart sink.

“I…”

It takes her a moment to realize — when she no longer feels Kamilah’s touch — that _she _was the one who pulled away.

“Yes, Nadya? Something to say?”

Shallow, almost panicked breaths… all it would take is a simple step forward…

“I need some air.”

With her skirts gathered in both hands Nadya turns and practically runs in the other direction.

Distantly the clock strikes midnight.

* * *

The Ball had opened up to the rest of the castle and surrounding grounds sometime in the middle of her dancing. It was like there was nowhere she could be alone — no place she could feel safe. Surrounded by strangers and knowing that there were enemies among them paired with the churning emotions that couldn’t make sense of her body has Nadya on the brink of breaking down.

The night air does more than beckon her forward. It screams at her, demands she find peace out there where it could be most dangerous. It’s not rational but still she follows — away from the crowds and their pleasant evenings in directions only her feet can understand.

When she comes to it’s in a haze of muddled thoughts in a varietal English she can’t quite catch. Finds her hands grasping onto the metal rungs of a bridge overlooking a dim pond. Through the barest moonlight hiding behind clouds overhead she can see koi flit this way and that; too deep down to stir the surface where fallen flower petals hang abandoned.

A hand rubs soft circles along her exposed back — voice crooning in her ear deep and dark like a cello.

“There there… are you coming back now?”

Nadya snaps back to herself all at once, feels her heart lurch in her chest. The voice chuckles and the hand pulls back.

“Indeed you are. This is where you are told to breathe, yes? In through the mouth, out through the nose… no, that isn’t right.”

Isseya leans back against the same railing; the trails of her dress trying desperately to catch on the faint night breeze.

Or — maybe it isn’t Isseya. Not with the strange kindness in her eyes and the way her lips hold no withheld scorn. It’s definitely like she’s looking at a twin — or a mirror image reflected back in every way. Definitely not the viper from the ballroom… right?

The vampire taps her olive nose; reminds Nadya to breathe in so deep it burns and only when she feels like her lungs are going to burst through her corset does she let it all out.

“Very good,” praises her companion.

She expects Isseya to try and begin a conversation, but instead the woman just… watches her breathe. She seems almost fixated, fascinated by it. Eyes raking down to see her compressed midriff rise and fall. She mimics Nadya twice before seemingly becoming bored with the act. Watches passively instead with an unblinking stillness.

When she has to take in less and less to ground herself is when Isseya speaks again.

“May I ask what that was?”

“What —” Nadya takes in one last gulp of air, “— what was what?”

She’s not trying to deny it; not like it’s the first time she’s ever had a panic attack so strong she blacked out a bit. But the look on Isseya’s face surprises her.

“You’re… I mean — you’re immortal and you’ve never had a panic attack?”

The vampire gives a _“ha”_ of surprise.

“From what would I panic?”

“Uh… stakes, garlic, the sun?”

“No.”

Nothing like staring eternal life in the face and feeling immensely inadequate. But the woman contradicts even her thoughts — still looking at her with what almost feels like awe.

“Such violent reactions to fear I’m not unaccustomed to. But you caused your own fear, did you not? Beautiful…”

Only Nadya doesn’t find it very beautiful at all. When Isseya reaches out as if to touch her again she steps back — manages to keep her footing despite the curve of the bridge. She doesn’t even want to think about the holy hellfire that would rain down on her for ruining a Lacroix dress with pond water.

“Please don’t touch me.”

“Forgive me, mortal child.”

“Nadya,” she corrects, “my name is Nadya.”

“Nadya, then. A beautiful name for a beautiful creature. I told Valdas, you know, that you must be a sign sent for us.”

She says it so calmly. Maybe it’s meant to be that way — meant to entice her to know more. It works.

“I don’t understand.”

Hands braced on the railing and face turned away; Nadya doesn’t have to see her to hear the way her voice wavers.

_“‘Nadya’_ is a name which means _hope._ Something which my partner and I have lost more and more of with each passing year. You expect the continual passing of years when you Turn, you know. You accept the hunger. Say farewell to the warmth of a sunrise. I even reconciled the knowledge that everyone I would ever know would rot in the ground beneath my feet. But… no one tells you the little things you lose along the way.”

It’s more emotion than she’s ever seen from a vampire — a thought she’s almost angry at herself for having if it didn’t feel so true. Every word Isseya says is heavy with time. They weigh her down and down, deeper and deeper until she wonders how she’s not looking down at the woman from the center of the planet.

She doesn’t know what to say — there’s nothing to say. She’s mortal—_finite, dreadfully finite_—and doesn’t even have the ability to comprehend what Isseya must be feeling.

And as an extremely empathetic person that’s not something she’s used to. It makes her fumble half-words; noises that definitely aren’t language.

Yet when she finally isn’t burning with shame enough to look at Isseya again she finds the vampire offering her a smile. A weary, dreary thing… but sometimes the thought behind a gesture is more important than the gesture itself.

“Take your time.”

So she does. Actually thinks about what she wants to say before she says it. Makes her wonder briefly what life would be like if she did that more often.

Finally, “Whatever you lost doesn’t sound little at all.”

“No, I suppose he wasn’t.” replies Isseya; makes Nadya go flush with surprise.

“Can I ask who…?”

“His name was Cynbel.”

“Oh. And he was…?”

“My lover, but that is not unlike saying the night sky is only what we see with our eyes.”

Nadya isn’t there to judge anyone. Still, she’s surprised. Hadn’t the other man — Valdas, that was his name — called her his _‘Priestess?’_

“Did you, uhm,” she bites her lip, “I mean did you meet Valdas pretty soon after losing him?”

Not a second passes; Nadya almost misses Isseya’s expression change — darken, deepen.

“I forget not everyone is aware of our story, sometimes. Most hear us, our title — _Trinity _— and simply _know._ There was a time the word was banned in polite conversation lest it bring down the mood of a party or cause wistful waifs to wilt.

“I’ve forgotten now who coined the name. Cynbel might know… he was quite proud of it. He always cared about titles, you see. Not that it wasn’t apt. The three of us were always together; see one and the other two were not far behind. You know the saying _‘bad things come in threes?’_ Probably derived from us.”

That’s when Nadya catches on, gives an _“ooooh”_ of understanding.

“You, Valdas, and Cynbel. You were —”

“We three have a love that may very well burn longer than the stars above us. He used to say that. Loved us hard enough to make us believe it. When he passed it truly felt like the heavens would crumble down without all three of us to hold them up.”

She doesn’t ask what happened though the question burns through her against the cold night air. Maybe it’s something Kamilah can answer — she seems to know them enough. Though that reminds Nadya of their meeting and Adrian — and whatever happened last night.

“I’m sorry for your loss. For both of your losses.”

“Keep your grief. It’s all hollow in the end. We will always be in mourning; every second of every night we must live without him. Because indeed; we must live even if he is no longer with us.

That is the blood oath to which my god and I are bound.”

And doesn’t that make things take a turn for the weird. Makes Nadya have to school herself carefully even if Isseya can hear the change in her heartbeat. Who wouldn’t hear something like that and find it ominous, though? Like a seer’s omen.

Before she can make up some kind sympathy to offer Isseya reaches out — strokes the tip of her nail along the curve of Nadya’s jawline. _Yes, it’s totally the night and my bare shoulders making me shiver,_ she tells herself, _totally not whatever weird, semi-erotica is going on here…_

“Apologize.”

Nadya blinks out of her stupor. “What?”

“Apologize, I said,” there’s a brief sting, she hardly even notices, but when Isseya pulls back her hand there’s a bead of blood on her fingertip, “for failing to placate me with your undesired grief.”

That’s more than enough. Only when she tries to move away there’s a hand wrapped around her throat that squeezes; takes the words right out of her mouth quite literally.

She didn’t even see the vampiress move. Not a blur or a flash of fang. She simply wasn’t and then she was. And everything in her eyes says Nadya is right to be terrified.

“Go on,” squeezing harder, bringing them so close she can smell Isseya’s honeysuckle breath, _“apologize.”_

Nadya fumbles around the words; moves her mouth with increasing frantic desperation when no sound, no air, not even a fleck of spittle wants to come out. _I’m sorry — I’m sorry!_

A tear rolls down her cheek, tickles the edge of her chin and makes her keen in a whimper as Isseya leans forward and flicks the tip of her tongue to catch it. When she pulls back that familiar red stare lurks in the woman’s eyes.

She lets go. Nadya fumbles, falls hard on her backside on the bridge with both hands around her neck like she’s trying to make sure all her skin is still there. She watches up in horror as Isseya licks her lips in satisfaction.

“Your apology is accepted… even if it was pitiful. I expect better from you next time.”

_Next time_ isn’t so much spoken as felt like a breeze; the vampire gone between rapid and pounding beats of her heart. With all her dress it takes Nadya several attempts to collect herself, to scramble up and wipe away her tears and dash in a mad rush towards the castle.

_Adrian, she needs to find Adrian._

* * *

Marcel’s a generous host — happy not only to help her find Adrian but to escort her around the castle himself. He’s a sweet boy, really, even if he’s old enough to be her great-great-great-many-greats grandfather. Somehow he’s managed to keep his childish sensibilities about him all these centuries.

It dissolves her fear a little. Makes it easier for Nadya to brush off his concern when he points out she keeps rubbing her neck. “I think I made a few mosquitoes pretty happy,” she jokes and all is well again.

He’s not upstairs in the apartment — _“He mentioned he lost his key, I think?”_ — and they might be getting a little off-track when Marcel stops them in the conservatory to show her his collection of night-blooming flowers among what appears to be a cigar-and-whiskey party.

Then he snaps and there’s an invisible lightbulb over his head. Marcel grabs Nadya’s hand and takes off at full youthful speed down a staircase.

“Where are we going?!”

“I know where he is!”

Adrian’s favorite room in the castle is, apparently, the library. Only Marcel doesn’t give Nadya a chance to process her fear of the place before dragging her along inside.

The doors are open, velvet rope cast aside, and they aren’t the only ones milling about. It’s not just a library but an entire museum inside; she barely has time to glance at various glass cases and pedestals while Marcel’s hunt comes to a close.

She doesn’t mean to upset them both in the way she hurtles herself at Adrian, knocking him off balance for a brief moment before his arms come around her. Nadya’s grown used to not caring about the lack of body heat — the solid presence of Adrian is enough to calm her racing heart.

Marcel, however, notices.

_“Mademoiselle Nadya… comment ça va?”_

Even as her lingering fear subsides the look Nadya flashes up to Adrian tells him all he needs to know.

“I think she just got overwhelmed,” he tells Marcel, whose distress grows. He grabs Nadya’s hand in both of his and kisses her knuckles.

“I hate to know someone was unhappy at one of my parties…” He laments. It’s enough for the part of her so used to pleasing others to force on a smile and extricate herself from her friend to offer the little lord a tight hug.

“I’m having a wonderful time,” she says truthfully, “but Adrian’s right. Not knowing anyone just sort of got to me.”

“How can I ever make it up to you?”

“There’s nothing to make up!”

She holds him at arms’ length and together they smile. Like a miracle she watches his cheeriness return.

_“Promettez-vous?”_

Hopefully she’s understanding him from context. “I promise.”

She hates lying, even if it _was _necessary. When Marcel scampers off at the voice of someone he recognizes her smile falls away. Turns to Adrian with tears welling up in her eyes again.

He reaches and pulls Nadya into a tight hug. Kisses the top of her head and rubs his solid hands over her shivering shoulders. “What happened?”

The cliffnotes version makes her sound a little batty. When she struggles to continue, shuffling from foot to foot, Adrian silently coaxes them to continue his stroll through the library’s many objects on display. He’s gotten to know her habits really well, hasn’t he.

“So one minute she’s comforting me — and I guess vice versa — and then the next…” Nadya finishes by showing him the soft bruises on her neck; each in the perfect indent of Isseya’s fingertips. She’s just lucky the other woman hadn’t drawn blood, maybe.

Adrian’s scowl slackens; he pulls them into an alcove away from the immediate sight of others. Before Nadya can even ask what he’s doing Adrian’s fangs flash through his teeth and he pricks the pad of his right thumb.

“Who—wha—_oi!”_ His arm around her keeps Nadya from moving away; he reaches out and smears the welling droplets of blood on her neck like that’s just _something that totally happens every day for them._ “Gross. Adrian — this is definitely not in my contract.”

Yes it makes him grin, and when he lets her go Nadya catches her reflection in a nearby silver shield. The dark smear of blood remains but the purpling bruises fade right before her eyes. “Oh.”

“Not only is it the least I can offer,” and the handkerchief he offers from his tailcoat breast pocket isn’t something she turns down, “but if Kamilah were to see that —”

_She should have expected this._ “Better to keep the peace.”

Adrian doesn’t say yes or no to it, but essentially — yes.

“I just don’t get why she changed so suddenly.” She also doesn’t get why Adrian apparently slept with her and Valdas, but that part she leaves out.

They resume walking together while Adrian thinks of a suitable answer.

“She told you about the Trinity, right?”

“That there’s supposed to be three but now it’s just her and the other guy?”

“Well, yes — that. But also why they are named — why they’re important enough to have a title like that.”

Together they leave the library stacks behind and venture through a smaller door into what appears to be a portrait hall. None of the paintings contain solo figures — but they all contain the same sort of classical beauty one would expect to find in world-renowned museums. She tries to place some of the faces — either to the guests she’s seen or what she remembers from her History gen-ed — but doesn’t linger on it.

“The Trinity are an incredibly old trio of vampires. Some would say the oldest around… but that’s not entirely the case.” Nadya wants to ask why he felt the need to play his own Devil’s advocate; instead chooses to let him continue as her eyes sweep over every frozen expression staring down at them.

“No one really knows when they were Turned. Kamilah told me once that they had centuries under their belts while she was still mortal.”

“Scary old vampires, got it. What’s the point?”

“Their age _is _the point, Nadya. Age is extremely important in what little universal culture we all share. It’s something deeper than just giving your elders respect. It proves an incredible strength, knowledge, in some cases a vast accumulation of wealth… and the cunning to have survived this long without getting killed. And trust me — there were plenty of chances for that to happen.

“The Trinity have always been. Like… how humans look at the pyramids or the Colosseum. And sure they’ve been under the radar for a while but even I remember a time when the very mention of them as a unit meant there was something awful coming on the horizon.”

Nadya stops them in front of a portrait of three. These faces she recognizes — two of them, anyway. The clothing is stiff; the subjects stiffer.

Isseya’s hair is longer but the way tendrils of black hang in her face makes Nadya remember the events of the garden with a shiver. She sits with grace, one hand resting on the lap of her ivory dress and the other lazily reaching upwards to clasp that of Valdas’ where he stands behind her. What the toga was hiding the pressed Victorian suit he’s immortalized in reveals. Somehow the artist managed to capture the almost predatory potential of power hidden in his cut figure.

The face she doesn’t know has taken a knee on the opposite side of Isseya’s chair. His fingers rest over hers just barely entwined. His face is young, strong. Blond hair pulled back in a tie that hangs over his shoulder is an almost feminine way.

Underneath the polished golden frame sits a plaque: _‘The Montes Estate,’_ it reads, and below it the date 1876.

“Valdas, Isseya, and…”

“Cynbel.” Nadya finishes for him; draws a look of surprise from Adrian.

“Is that his name? I never knew.”

“Isseya told me. She really misses him.” _Even if she’s missing a few screws._

“They both do. And I guess I get it. To be with the same person — the same people — for thousands of years. Only to lose one…”

As his voice trails off Nadya looks up. He, too, looks like the painting in his own way. He’ll look like this forever. Hopefully not as sad; not as weighed down by the way he tries to carry the world on his shoulders… but the same Adrian that stands at her side will probably stand over her grave.

_Yikes. Morbid, much?_

“I’m sorry.” He takes her hand and squeezes. “Because there’s nothing I can do.”

Nadya’s heart sinks. “About how she attacked me, you mean.”

“Yes. The Ball is a time of peace and, generally, everyone upholds to the rules. Except —”

“The rules don’t apply to the Trinity.” She guesses, but doesn’t get a gold star for being right. She’s not mad at him — not even disappointed. To be honest she hadn’t needed him to do something about it so much as just… be there.

And that is something Nadya knows he will always do. He’ll always be there.

They continue down the line of paintings. Nadya helps Adrian keep his mind off of what he considers his failure by asking him about the people, places, the moment in time that helps bring life to the canvas.

“Marcel’s in this one!” She gestures to one behind them where Marcel — younger of course but he doesn’t look it — in decorative and splendid golden armor. “He didn’t actually go to battle, right?”

“No, it was made for the portrait.” There’s a distant, misty look in Adrian’s eyes as he fixates on the taller figure behind their friend.

Nadya peers to read the plaque. _“‘Monsieur Marcellus Claude Philippe Lafayette’_ — what a mouthful — _‘and General Banner Westbrook VI.’_ Banner… I’ve heard that name before.”

“The library was named in his honor. Marcel took his death hard. They… never really saw eye-to-eye, but it’s that same concept of spending lifetimes with the same person.”

But when she looks up to comfort him Nadya’s surprised to find him staring at the end of the room; at something mounted on the wall but hidden by shadow.

Adrian’s hand closes tighter on hers — takes Nadya a moment to realize he might not be aware of it. Tighter, tighter, until it’s pretty much impossible for her not to wince.

“Adrian. A—Adrian, you’re hurting me. Hey!”

A snap in his face pulls him out of whatever memory he’s trapped in. Makes him pliant as she pulls their hands apart. The redness fades quickly but there’s a lingering ache in her wrist that Nadya rubs slowly.

“I — I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

Before he can say anything Nadya steps around; makes her way to the last frame with her skirts in her hands. “Nadya — wait —” Adrian calls behind her. It doesn’t make her stop.

Only one painting hangs on the back wall. It’s also the only piece with one subject. 

The man stands in grace, one foot forward; everything about his stance exuding not only confidence but command. Dark brown hair falls over his face and shoulders in perfect waves — the kind that would take hours to get these days. The artist captured details Nadya didn’t even consider possible; hairs at the crown of his forehead and pores in his perfect skin. Each individual chain link upon his conqueror’s armor.

She’s beholden with wonderment at the beauty of the man until the background comes to her attention. Feels her stomach churn when she sees the full moon behind his head actually appearing to pour moonlight down the canvas. Finds her trembling fingers covering a strangled sound she doesn’t immediately recognize as hers at the sight of faceless, naked corpses in a pile beneath the dais he prostrates upon.

Adrian’s hands come to weigh on her shoulders solemnly. Nadya tries to make the image go away; closes her eyes but it’s burned into the back of her eyelids like a brand. She wants to tear it to pieces, wants to shred the fibers strand by strand…

But somehow she just _knows _that even if the entire castle went up in flames this painting would remain untouched. Perfectly sanguine until the end of time.

“You know what’s really stupid?” asks Nadya wetly; takes Adrian’s handkerchief to dab at the tears at the corners of her eyes.

The painting’s presence draws Adrian to a whisper. “What’s that?”

She turns and tucks the cloth back into Adrian’s breast pocket. Brushes her hair out of her eyes with a sigh.

“I spent so much time on this stupid makeup and I keep crying.”

Adrian’s first reaction is poising himself to strike; ready to do what he can to make her feel better. It’s so wonderful and the image behind her is so awful that Nadya’s clashing emotions manage the only thing that makes sense: laughter.

Adrian first witnesses her, confused, before he offers his own little chuckle. It’s hollow and forced; when he thinks she isn’t looking she sees his gaze flicker to the monstrosity behind her and grow cold.

Wordlessly they leave the portrait room, then the library. Adrian offers a few polite waves to people unknown to Nadya; mentions something about getting back to the ballroom in enough time to see some performance.

She’s not really paying attention — no matter how hard she tries his words just grow fuzzy like television static. But that’s preferable to the voices echoing between her ears she tries desperately to pretend don’t exist.

_“Rise, my Beloved Soldier. Rise and know your King has witnessed your loyalty to Him.”_

_“Thank you, my King. I am humbled.”_

_“My Beloved Soldier… my Beloved Adrian.”_

* * *

Nadya’s at least mostly-percent sure that Kamilah has better things to think about than her tiny mortal self. Tells herself that when they find her back in the ballroom and Kamilah seems to be actively choosing to look everywhere _but _at her.

Until she notices the smallest smudge in Nadya’s makeup. Then Kamilah is _on _her, chilly hands cupping her cheeks and turning her head this way and that to examine her state.

“What. happened.” It takes Nadya a second to realize the growl is directed not at her but at Adrian. He silently shakes his head and offers a gentle touch to pry his companion off of her.

Still Kamilah persists; locks her eyes onto Nadya’s and when she speaks it’s soft yet somehow powerful enough to chase the unwanted voices from her mind.

“Are you unharmed?”

Nadya gives a shuddering exhale and nods. “Yeah, Kamilah. I’m fine. I — listen, about earlier —”

“Later.” Kamilah cuts her off curtly. Like she’s been replaced by a doppelgänger. It leaves Nadya feeling like an accessory as the vampires turn to confide in one another.

“Where have you been? You were the one who arranged this during the Ball — you couldn’t even bother to show up on time?”

Before Adrian can defend himself a figure starts towards them from the middle of a crowd. He may be dressed like every picture Nadya’s ever seen of Henry VIII but there’s no mistaking that greasy grin.

Lester claps a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. Squeezes until his knuckles are white and Nadya flinches out of sympathy.

“There you are, Raines my boy,” he practically sneers, “and here we were worried you had better things to do.”

Kamilah says nothing. Adrian pries Lester’s hand from his person.

“I was occupied elsewhere.”

None of them miss how Lester’s eyes travel to Nadya; look her up and down and linger on her chest. She’s starting to consider that his typical form of greeting.

The other vampire snorts. “I bet you were. But you were the one who wanted to ruin a good party with Council business, so let’s get it over with shall we?”

Lester waves two fingers — draws their attention to the others approaching.

Vega’s black suit and red tie somehow don’t do anything for his charming smile but it’s the sight of the Baron’s curled upper lip that sends a whip of panic through Nadya. Make her take a step closer to Kamilah out of some subconscious need to hide behind her dress.

Beside them strides sex on legs; thick waves of hair cascading down her shoulders and the sheer material of her dress catching the lights just enough to see the lingerie beneath.

If anyone’s wing-tip eyeliner could actually stab a man it would be hers: Priya Lacroix.

“I had to turn down a Bulge Magazine sandwich for this shit,” the designer snaps, “so let’s get it the fuck over with before I lose my appetite.”

The Baron fixates on Nadya with a growl.

“Funny. You look just like a cunt I locked up.”

_She is so over crying tonight._

“Yeah, well, go screw yourself.”

_“Me~ow!”_ Priya pushes the Baron aside carelessly, ignores the glare he shoots her way, and pulls Nadya out from behind Kamilah to appraise her properly.

“I know I complained about having to make you something at the last minute Adrian… but I take it back. She looks positively _yummy.”_

Before Priya can even show her fangs she’s moved aside. Kamilah takes the initiative this time to protect Nadya on her own. If she plans on arguing the thought is dashed the moment Priya looks into the older vampire’s eyes. Doesn’t stop her from giving a petulant huff.

“Whatever…”

Vega, however, ignores Nadya’s presence entirely.

“The point stands. We ought to take advantage of this opportunity to discuss certain Council matters.”

“Must it be _now?”_ Adrian asks tersely. The look on Vega’s face says it all. “Fine. But not here.”

Vega agrees. “I’ve already cleared out a parlor for us. Come along.”

Just as Adrian shakes off his fellow Council member’s grasp there’s a scream somewhere at the far end of the ballroom. Loud enough to cause a distraction and awful enough that the Council gathered actually looks towards the commotion.

The orchestra stops mid-chord as a chorus of cries and noises of distress begin to sound. The dance floor empties in the blink of an eye as the dancing vampires rush away from something.

“Stay here.” Kamilah hisses. She and Adrian push the others aside in an attempt to help. Against her wishes Nadya slips out of the uncomfortable presence of the other vampires and around the crowd to edge closer.

A young woman lies, collapsed and prone, in the middle of the floor. She’s seizing; convulses on her stomach. The foul smell of rot fills the fragrant air.

Then the face twitches around and Nadya recognizes her in horror.

_“Megan!”_

At the same time that Nadya pushes her way forward two familiar faces break away from the crowd opposite. Brandon fumbles and skids on his knees to his twin’s side while Greer kneels behind him, mortified.

Nadya’s skirts billow around her as she ignores Adrian’s distant cry of _“Nadya, no!”_ and brushes Megan’s hair away from her clammy features.

Her skin is greying; veins growing black under Brandon’s touch.

“Meg—Meggie what’s wrong? What’s happening?” He hauls his sister’s head into his lap. That’s when Nadya catches sight of a violent bite mark on her shoulder. It oozes puss and black ichor. Megan tries and fails to respond when she starts foaming at the mouth.

Greer looks around with wild eyes.

“Help! Is someone gonna fuckin’ help her?! _What the fuck!”_

Nadya fumbles in a panic. Doesn’t know what to do, ends up looking to where Adrian and Kamilah are keeping a very purposeful distance.

“Help her!” She surprises herself by screaming. Adrian moves to step forward but Kamilah jerks him back almost violently.

“Don’t you dare.” The woman seethes — and Nadya grows feverish with panic when she watches Kamilah look upon Megan and Brandon with an expression foreign to her face.

“Kamilah —”

“Adrian Raines, I forbid it.”

“What?!” Brandon tries to hold Megan’s head still, tries to hold her jaw open as her fangs grow and warp before his eyes, “Why won’t you help?!”

Adrian stays put but reaches out; beckons Nadya away.

“Nadya, please. Please get over here.”

“No! Not until you help her!” _I can’t believe I’m seeing this._

“She’s beyond help now!” shouts Kamilah. She draws the attention of the entire Ball — takes a deep breath and steels herself to push down an emotion Nadya didn’t think she was capable of.

_Fear._

“Nadya — for Christ’s sakes.” He grabs her in a blur and Nadya finds herself wrapped in his arms.

All around vampires and mortals stand and resign themselves to witness as Megan’s seizures increase. As her skin grows dark and chalky and Greer yanks back Brandon when he fails to hold her down.

“What’s happening?” Nadya gasps. Adrian clutches her tighter and his words flood ice through her veins.

_“She’s Turning Feral.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the differences from the canon storyline will come to a point soon! Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you.
> 
> **02.24:** Check this out guys, an amazing friend on tumblr commissioned the titular painting and it looks incredible! You can find it [[HERE](https://jcckwrites.tumblr.com/post/191003098809/%F0%9D%92%A9adya-stops-them-in-front-of-a-portrait-of)] on my writeblr.  
Credit to the fantastic artist [gwygle](https://gwygle.tumblr.com/) who you should definitely check out and commission!


	13. The Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Awakening Ball turns upside-down when Ferals attack. Nadya goes into hiding with new friends... and ends up finding an old one along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter trigger warnings:** disturbing dream sequence, implied Gaius/Kamilah, trauma, mourning
> 
> **note:** This chapter and the next (I'll include a warning there as well) imply past Gaius/Kamilah through dream sequences lived through Nadya's eyes. It's a bit hard to explain out of context. I just wanted to state that I am in _no way_ condoning the abusive relationship between Gaius and Kamilah -- but I am choosing to portray aspects of it loosely as it is a large part of Kamilah's reticence towards romance. There will be no Gaius/Kamilah in this fanfic. I just wanted to readers to be aware. Thank you.

When the penthouse door opens in the other room Nadya’s still awake.

She looks at the clock — worries her bottom lip between her teeth as 02:59 changes to 03:00 right on cue. Arches her back to flip her hair over her shoulder and shake it out. Either this will go surprisingly spectacularly or it will be her largest failure to date.

Either way Nadya knows better than to expect anything to go according to plan. Especially something as important as this.

Nature sets the stage for her; flashes an arc of lightning across the sky that gives her a backlight against the large glass wall that serves as Kamilah’s bedroom window… right as Kamilah herself enters the doorway.

The vampire stares in statuesque silence; looks Nadya’s naked body up and down on the smooth canvas of her maroon duvet.

Twenty seconds pass — thunder rumbles in the distance.

“Have you anything to say to accompany your… spontaneous decision?” Kamilah finally asks.

Nadya bears down all her nerves and slides her hand over her midriff.

“I’m tired of waiting?”

It comes out less a declaration and more a question; makes Nadya curse herself mentally when Kamilah’s full lips quirk in amusement.

“Are you telling me, or asking?”

“Telling you.”

“Is that your final answer?”

There’s no hiding the way her flush starts at her cheeks and goes all the way down her body. How her toes curl at half-formed thoughts of what’s to come when she realizes she’s being toyed with.

So she tries again; “I’m tired of waiting, Kamilah.”

Every step the woman takes towards the bed is slow and purposeful agony. Nadya watches her nostrils flare and dares to imagine in the darkness of the room that Kamilah can taste her arousal on the tip of her wicked tongue.

“Such a daring little thing, aren’t you?” Her voice grows husky as she trails two fingertips along Nadya’s prone jaw; follows the movement with her eyes as they travel down her neck, tickle her collarbone, skirt around the curve of her breast. Nadya opens her mouth to respond but the finger over her lips has other plans.

“Speaking requires permission, now. Do you understand?”

Somehow Nadya’s body manages to break out in even more thrills. She nods once and earns a proper smile in reward.

“There will be no crude word choice to act as a symbol,” Kamilah purrs, “should you wish to stop, simply say _‘stop.’_ Do you understand?”

Her second nod earns Nadya the press of a finger against her bottom lip; the nail catching on her front teeth as Kamilah slides it along her tongue. Nadya sucks on the digit with eager obedience. Marvels at the sudden black that envelops the eyes of the woman before her that mean only one thing: arousal.

They maintain eye contact like breaking it would kill them both. The room, hot and heavy against the summer night, echoes empty with nothing but the wet noises of Nadya’s desperation to please, to encourage.

She actually _whines _when Kamilah draws her hand back. Catches herself leaning forward and she has to stop herself, adjust her hips and the pooling lava in her belly. There should be an actual award for the restraint she shows by not moaning the temptress’ name.

Some stuff definitely happens in the interim but Nadya’s brain must have flicked off in between then and now. Her mind has certain priorities and at the moment the largest one is the way Kamilah’s naked body hovers over hers, holds her arms up above her head… the dichotomy between the cold body and its startlingly warm mouth.

_“Hnnhgh…”_ It would be great if Kamilah would shove something in her mouth to erase the temptation of talking — but that would be too easy.

“Remember your place, Nadya.”

Kamilah lowers her attentions in breathless kisses scattered around her middle. Nips with blunted teeth and hot breath that tickles thin dark hairs she wanted to hide but now is glad for — just more of her for Kamilah to bask in.

She drinks from the well of Nadya’s skin like it’s the Nile — _haha, punny_ — and she’s been lost in the desert. And just when she thinks her eyes have gotten used to the darkness, to the faint outline of Kamilah’s seduction, the storm outside blinds her in a flash.

And Kamilah definitely takes the opportunity to surprise her with a kiss somewhere new; somewhere exciting.

_Nope, she can’t do it._ Can’t stay still or quiet any longer — not when she’s finally getting the thing she wants most in the entire world. Not when she’s finally with the person she wants most in the entire world.

“Kamilah!” Nadya gasps — like a trigger pulled Kamilah is suddenly gone. It makes her whine and writhe upon the silken bed. Turns her grasp on the iron-wrought headboard into white knuckles and sweaty palms.

The world around them is dark — too dark. Nadya squints towards the window but the New York skyline has gone black as the void.

In the distance the clouds part to the light of the full moon. Too far to objectify, too far to bring her comfort. But somehow close enough to bathe Kamilah’s bedroom in an ethereal lunar glow.

Nadya barely stifles her gasp as Kamilah comes into view atop her. Straddling her frame on either side of the bed but easily avoiding touch. _Thank god she’s still there._

She peels her hands from above her; reaches out to wreathe her fingers in honey-brown hair.

“There you are…”

The smile with which the vampire looks down at her is soft; affectionate. Doesn’t last long enough when it begins to melt like a glacier into a twisted snarl of ravenous fangs and a predator’s blood-red eyes.

“Here I am.” Croons whatever monster is left in Kamilah’s image; inhabiting her body like a shell.

The air grows cold around them; chills the sweat dripping down her prone body until she’s shaking on the verge of collapse.

Nadya tries to look around, tries to understand, but Kamilah’s hand grasps at her chin on the cusp of painful — holds her gaze upwards.

_Something isn’t right._ “Kamilah…?”

As Kamilah opens her mouth to speak another hand — pale, masculine, calloused and almost like stone — brushes Nadya’s hair from her forehead.

She tries to scream but the hand moves down to her throat. Makes her watch as a familiar face of impeccable beauty and devastating monstrosity looms down at her just over Kamilah’s shoulder.

“Is my Queen not the most divine?” asks the Man from the Painting. His smile is more than just a vampire’s — every single tooth a pointed fang.

She can’t scream. Not when she watches him—Gaius—kiss Kamilah’s temple above her. Not when his hand presses onto her trachea with ease. Not when both vampires descend in a blur of violence on either side of her neck.

Not when the moonlight grows in the room to illuminate the piles of corpses littered around the bedroom floor.

* * *

It’s the kind of nightmare that should send her jumping back to consciousness with a racing heart and those bleary moments trying to make some sort of connection with the physical world.

Maybe she _does _jump — her heart is definitely racing fast enough — but Nadya knows without a doubt she’s awake. Not only because it was impossible for that to have been anything _but _a dream, but because the world she wakes up to isn’t all that much better.

No one comes rushing to see if she’s all right. Not just because she doesn’t know anyone — because she does. Looks across the narrow aisle of the coach car where Greer cradles the larger form of his partner in his arms.

Tear tracks in their makeup run down their cheeks. There’s something powdery in Brandon’s hair. _Ash _— realizes Nadya too late, and her stomach heaves yet again to try and empty itself but there’s nothing left to throw up.

Compared to the rest of the passengers Nadya’s pretty darn okay. Unharmed — if shaken. Intact — if covered in the blood of others. Alive — if struggling to fully grasp that concept.

_She’s alive._ And that’s better than could be said for Megan.

A figure blocks her view of the boys and she looks up to see a younger girl, probably no more than sixteen, offering her a small bag of snack chips.

She carries the box tucked under her arm. A new sound joins the choir of weeping the train has been chugging along to; the rustle of plastic bags and processed junk being eaten not for enjoyment but for survival.

Nadya takes the bag — gestures silently across the way and the girl gives an understanding nod when she gives her Brandon and Greer’s shares. My condolences, says the misty shimmer of her young eyes. But she moves on to the row behind Nadya. Keeps going. Keeps doing good.

There must have been a group that raided the food cars because after her they just keep coming. Some offer sandwiches; frequently groups of two and three bring around water bottles and tiny paper cups of hot tea.

Near the front of the car Nadya looks to see a couple scouring over a trembling young man. Checking his arms, neck; any exposed skin. They coax him to turn and that’s when Nadya catches sight of his fangs.

“A-Am I clean?” stumbles the vampire when the couple finally pull away. They nod and open the passage door.

“Remember to take only what will get you to tomorrow.” One of them warns. The door closes behind the vampire loudly.

It’s all absolutely awful. The empty seats scream of casualties in a number Nadya doesn’t even want to comprehend right now.

But the sight of people — some vampires, some humans, all _people _— coming together to try and do what they can… it brings back just a little bit of light in the world.

Everyone exits the train like the beginning of a strange foreign film; both outside of time and within it. Those who wore modern costumes don’t have to worry about standing out but Nadya can’t exactly take the subway in a dress not only half the size of a row of seats but also torn, matted; stained with blood.

_“You’ll fit right in,”_ says the Lily-voice in her head, but she doesn’t even want to risk it.

She wants to go home. Realizes with a strange numbness that she really has no home to go to. She can’t see Nicole being hospitable without Adrian at her back and while the thought of Gerard comforting her with a cup of hot chocolate makes her legs go to jelly it feels _wrong._ Wrong to just… _go there _without them.

Nadya has to lean against a nearby column to steady herself as all the terrible horrible _what ifs_ try again to push against the door she’s slammed them behind. She clasps the Clan Sayeed charm between her clammy palms and actually prays.

“Nadya, pet, c’mon — we can’t stay here.”

She looks up and hastily wipes away her tears at the sight of Brandon and Greer approaching hand-in-hand. It feels wrong to cry in front of them. At least she can have hope those she cares about will return.

“Brandon — I —”

He shakes his head and Nadya falls silent. Reaches out with his free hand; she takes it in both of hers and tries not to think about the sight of Megan going grey underneath their touch.

“I know,” he says through a voice thick with pain, “and thank you. But this place is going to be barren soon.”

At a quick glance she sees he’s right; the train is already preparing to depart and the survivors leave in hasty groups. Some head towards the nearby parking complex while others step into cabs and hired cars that pull onto the nearby road in a trail of burning rubber.

“Where will you go?” she asks; contemplates the sobering thought of not being alone by offering them the apartment she isn’t even sure she has keys for any longer.

Brandon pulls his hand away and produces his phone from his breast pocket. Starts typing on the screen furiously. The backlight illuminates his face with an eerie blue glow; makes it easier to see the tears he’s trying desperately not to shed. His hands are shaking. Greer is there to steady them.

“Our flight back overseas isn’t for a few days,” Greer laments, “but while we were in town we were staying with some friends. Group of vampires living on the low — an old flame of… of hers.” He doesn’t say Megan’s name. It’s still too painful.

She wants to warn them of the dangers of staying in the city without Council approval — remembers then that there might not even be a Council anymore.

But it’s enough that they have a place to go. “Good. I’ll stay with you until they can pick you up.”

The couple exchange somber glances. Greer pulls her against him and kisses the top of her head.

“Not happenin’, pet. You’re coming with us.”

“No, no I have somewhere to go.”

“Do you, though?”

He probably doesn’t mean it to sound as harsh as it does but the words sting enough; make Nadya flinch against him. “They’ll come back. They have to.”

“And I hope they do,” Greer clarifies, “but _until _they do — or don’t — I don’t like the thought of you on your own.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“In a big dress.” Brandon comments quietly. It’s enough to make them all smile even if for a moment.

He pockets his phone. “Alright, she said her boss is on his way.”

“Ooh, good. I could use a bit of eye candy right now.”

There may not be as much heart in the way Greer says it but it eases the tension from everyone’s shoulders.

They wait together inside the midnight ride section of the station. It’s just a couple of plastic chairs and a closed coffee cart but it’s not standing outside and being questioned about what they’re wearing, who they are, or what happened to them.

Nadya’s finding it harder and harder to stay awake. Now that the tumultuous emotions and fear-fueled adrenaline of their escape has passed through her she feels hollow; like a being of exhaustion wearing her face for a mask.

Then she remembers the last look back. The sight of Kamilah wrenching a large executioner’s axe from the grasp of a suit of armor and vanishing into the fray — of Adrian holding two hulking Ferals back by the necks with their grotesque fangs just inches from his face.

And she isn’t tired anymore.

Brandon’s fallen asleep on her shoulder when their ride finally shows. A dirty beaten van with rust creeping up from the undercarriage and _‘NORTHMUN & CO. PLUMBING’_ in peeling letters on the side.

It definitely isn’t the scariest thing Nadya’s seen tonight but it sets off all her _‘Single Girl Alone in New York’_ alarms and makes her wish she’d just sucked it up and called Gerard.

With a nudge and a soft _“c’mon,”_ she helps Brandon up and together the three leave the stillness of the platform’s purgatory to head out into the big, bad world.

The van’s back door slides open; Greer helps her up and into a crumby leather seat. She moves a tool box and pile of oil-smeared rags onto the cluttered floor to give the boys space.

Only then does Brandon give himself the luxury of a relived sigh. He reaches out and knocks on the small dingy window between them and the front of the van. It slides open and the hand that Brandon takes in his has a strong grip and a strangely familiar voice.

_“I’m sorry for your loss, Brandon.”_

Brandon doesn’t acknowledge it. “Thank you for picking us up. I know it’s risky for you to be out like this.”

“Well, you were willing to wait until everyone was gone so…”

Nadya’s still trying to place the voice when the van groans to life and begins its journey towards the city.

_“I only got the cliff notes of what happened,”_ the driver continues, _“and I know it’ll be a tough talk to have — but we need to know the level of danger we’re in.”_

Whether she can place the voice or not aside — Nadya’s really not a fan of the tone.

“I understand.”

_“The sooner the better.”_

Brandon looks almost guiltily at Greer. “Well, I was hoping we could rest first…”

_“You can rest after. This isn’t just about you.”_

“All right, nope.” Nadya manages to stand without immediately falling over into a pile of pipes strapped down to the van floor, holds herself up on a metal hook and smacks her flat palm on the driver’s side wall just beside the window.

She succeeds in startling the driver — but has to hold on when they swerve and straighten out.

_“What the hell is your problem,”_ the man barks, _“are you trying to get us killed?!”_

“You need to shut up. He just lost his sister, you jerk. So how about you show a little compassion, I don’t think it’ll kill you!”

The van slows to a halt — the traffic signal’s red glow streams into the back. There’s the sound of a seatbelt unbuckling and as Nadya falls back into her little seat the driver half-turns to scorn her.

“Just who the hell do you — think… you are…”

Nadya has to take a second for her eyes to adjust. It’s easier when the light turns green behind the shadow of his head but she’s _definitely _seen his face before.

Judging by their reactions they recognize each other at the same time.

Jax’s jaw is set in a scowl that twitches his upper lip. She has to push down her surprise and the sudden rush of thoughts but Nadya takes a little pride in how quickly she meets him foot-first with her chin held high.

“Nadya.” He finally exhales, like she asked him or something, though she’s a little surprised he remembers her name after all this time.

“Chill out,” Nadya insists, “and give him some time to breathe.” _To grieve._

Whatever else he’s going to say is drowned out by the first car horn that screams behind them. Followed by another, and another. Jax makes his decision and turns around; slams his foot on the gas so hard they jerk and the free-range equipment goes sliding to the back of the van.

At the next red light he stays up front. Does the same at the one after. Whatever argument they’ll get into has apparently been tabled. At least they have the drive to collect their thoughts.

There’s a hand on her knee and Nadya looks over to see Brandon offering her a tired — if relieved — smile. She takes his hand and squeezes.

* * *

They’ve been in a tunnel going on ten minutes when Jax finally turns and parks. He hops out of the front seat and there’s a brief second where the part of her that’s started to expect the worst at any given time thinks he’s abandoned them.

Then the back doors click unlocked and all three partygoers look to where Jax stands stoic.

“Come on. Let’s get you guys cleaned up.”

Brandon and Greer must have arrived by the same way of transport because they don’t wait for Jax to lead them down one of the several tunnel entrances they’ve parked beside.

The Clanless vampire offers Nadya a hand to help her down; she doesn’t take it.

But before she can follow her friends there’s a heavy hand holding her back. There’s definitely a part of her that channels Kamilah when she rounds on him with anger.

“Let. me. go.”

Jax’s narrowed eyes roam her up and down until he spots what he’s looking for. Grabs her wrist and holds it up to let Kamilah’s charm catch the floodlights above them.

“Where are your masters?” he practically spits.

She acts without thinking — yanks her hand away and smacks him across the face. Judging by the way he doesn’t flinch and the sting in her palm it definitely hurt her more than him but the satisfaction is worth it.

“My friends are risking their lives for the sake of yours.” Nadya hisses. It makes him growl.

“Bullshit. The Clans don’t give a damn about us.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that they’re out there fighting off a hundred Ferals; maybe more. Keeping them from getting to the city — from getting to the likes of you.”

Whatever retort Jax had lined up fades the moment he hears _‘Ferals.’_ There’s just the tiniest chip in his bravado and Nadya glimpses justifiable horror before he manages to cover it up.

“A hund… but that’s not possible.”

“Yeah…” and remembering it all wilts her temporary confidence, “they thought that, too.”

When she tries again to head down the same pathway as the others Jax veers her off the course to a different tunnel.

“Where are we going?”

“They know the area. You don’t. This —” a sigh, “—this heads to the Plaza. And it’ll be easier for you to get your bearings so…”

It doesn’t make a whole lick of sense — not what he’s saying, she gets that — but all of this. Down wherever they are. It reminds her of those news clips of abandoned subway tunnels the city didn’t have the funds to refurbish.

Now that she thinks about it, that was a huge point of favor for Senator Vega’s re-election; his initiative to _‘clean up the city’_ one tunnel at a time. Nadya, like most people, had let his strange wording go in one ear and out the other. But if that’s truly where they are…

“This is it—isn’t it,” Nadya asks, “this is where the Clanless are hiding out.”

“This is where we’re forced to cower. Where the Clans have forced us to barely live all because they refuse to acknowledge their system is a flawed one.”

Jax corrects her with an edge to his voice and she takes it for what it is — a silent demand to stop asking.

They round a corner and there’s a literal light at the end of the tunnel; dim and yellow in the way old lightbulbs were, accompanied by the smell of those seasonal walnut carts that stopped frequenting the streets in preparation for summer and ice cream.

The tunnel empties out into a bazaar — that’s the only word Nadya knows to compare it to. Not like those in movies filled with hagglers and their livestock trying to sell them under a strange alien sun but all cramped together; ramshackle stalls literally held in place by the skin of their teeth with rusty nails and old wooden planks rotting in some places.

To her left there’s a woman using exposed and collapsing pipes to hang blankets and clothes. Across the excuse for a path, a young duo with tattoos on every inch of skin show a yellowing booklet of designs to a middle-aged man sitting in an old barbershop chair.

The source of the sweet smell, Nadya sniffs to find, is exactly one of those celebratory carts at the end of a corner. The worker wipes sweat from her brow over the hot flames and churns walnuts in sugar and cinnamon in a beat-up wok.

All around her there is _life._ Life just as vibrant and busy as the streets above them.

“Watch your step.” Jax yanks her back as she goes forward — Nadya catches herself before she trips and falls into a railway gap.

She nods in thanks; still trying to take everything in. “Where are we?”

“An old spaghetti junction for the subway — abandoned after a construction collapse in the Eighties,” Jax points across the market to a crumbled section of the wall and ceiling; marked off with bright yellow police tape that’s been reapplied as many times as it has broken, “It’s served a good purpose. Everyone needs a place to congregate, to chat and meet new people. That’s how it started; just a place to talk. Talking helped some Turned relive their human memories and think of the things that made their life good. Distracted them from the tragedy.

“It kept them grounded; alive. Less chance of Turning Feral that way.”

The word makes her shudder but also see the place in a new light. None of the people around her — _which was which, who was who, were they all vampires or were other humans here too?_ — had a Clan brand. They were all a risk.

Kamilah would be so mad; a thought that actually helps her breathe a little easier.

“I didn’t know there’d been, like, studies done on how that happens.”

“There haven’t. Come on.” Jax doesn’t wait or help her across the rail gap. Nadya struggles to keep up without her dress — and the state of her — getting in everyone’s way.

While they walk he continues; “Ferals are a taboo subject among most vampires. The thing everyone knows about but no one wants to mention. But if we ignore the problem how are we ever gonna find a solution?

“There are myths — pretty much the vampire equivalent of old wives’ tales — about things that can keep a newly Turned from going Feral in the crucial hours after.”

“Like what?”

“Well, blood from a loved one is said to help tether the soul to the body. It’s the first measure we take whenever possible.”

“And the success rate? Did you run trials? What about a control group and a testing group? What if —”

Jax rounds on her quickly. Startles an elderly man nearby but he doesn’t say anything, just huffs and mumbles under his breath. There isn’t even a trace of hunger in his eyes and Nadya comes to the quick conclusion that this guy is probably prone to lashing out.

“They’re _people,_ not experiments! God, that’s the problem with you Clan types. So obsessed with your own wealth and status you don’t realize that a person is still a person even if they don’t have your precious little mark.”

And maybe she had been thinking about it like Adrian once described to her — that awful night she decided to ask about his previous assistant and learned of Adrian’s fight against the Feral problem through modern science over violence — but…

The fact that she can’t find an excuse that doesn’t sound like it was taken straight out of Adrian’s mouth doesn’t do much to affirm her convictions.

Jax takes her silence as a victory. Crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at her smugly.

“I figured _you _of all people — Clan pet or not — would care about the difference.”

Hands clenching into trembling fists at her sides; before Nadya can say anything Jax gives her his back to approach the woman with her clothes on the knot of pipes overhead.

She’s the kind of old that still looks beautiful; wears her age with grace and commands respect from it. Again Nadya is reminded of Kamilah and, again, her heart aches.

“Well if it isn’t old Mister Matsuo.” She teases; cups his cheek in a wrinkled palm and brushes a smudge of dirt away in a motherly fashion. “If you’re looking to win back your book you’ll have to wait — I can’t just pull away from a good day trading for your gambling problem.”

_‘Gambling problem?’_ Nadya mouths — has to hide her grin at the flustered way Jax one-arms the woman in a hug.

“Not this time, Evelyn. I was actually hoping for a favor.”

“Ha! Not likely. _You _owe _me,_ remember?”

Jax huffs. “The favor isn’t mine.”

When they both look her way is when Nadya has her answer; Evelyn has a vampire’s unmistakable grace. She beckons an arthritic finger and gently takes Nadya’s hand.

“Welcome to the Shadow Den, dear,” Evelyn looks down at the blood stain on her abdomen, “I’m sure Jax here wouldn’t leave you hanging if you were hurt, so I’ll give my condolences to your dress.”

_The Shadow Den._ She keeps that in mind. “T-Thanks.”

“Think you have something her size?” asks Jax with his arms crossed over his chest.

Evelyn coaxes Nadya to turn this way and that; surveys the fabric with a clinical eye by grabbing her skirts and rifling through the folds.

She finally pulls back and tugs off several items from the overhead pipes, then hikes up her own long skirt and toes off a pair of well-loved construction boots. “These ought to do. But I’ll be taking the dress as payment — I think I could make Liv something pretty for her show out of what’s left.”

Before the vampire can grab her dress again Nadya steps back. “You can’t take this,” doesn’t realize she’s said it but she has — “it was a gift.” _It might be all I have left. No — stop thinking like that. Oh god, but what if it’s true?_

But Evelyn just watches her — watches her with an offering of clothes she doesn’t have to pay for and her own shoes. The woman’s toes wiggle in thick woolen socks on the cement.

So she wraps her arms around her middle and hugs the dress one last time. “Thank you for your kindness. Do you have a place I could, uh…”

“Come back here, dear. Would you like some help?”

“Yes, please.”

Evelyn leads her — helps her hold up all the poof of her dress through the stall’s narrow sides — to a small area walled off with dusty flannel blankets. Closes a dark ocean-themed shower curtain with bleach stains on the hem to give them both some privacy.

She almost asks Evelyn if she could keep the corset. Instead just slips one of the silk ribbons out of its place and wraps it around her charm bracelet tightly. The shirt is a little too big but she cuffs up the sleeves and the opportunity to breathe _without _whalebone confines is actually heaven.

Part of Nadya expected (hoped, definitely hoped) Jax would be gone when they emerged.

Jax is still there. And he’s not alone.

“Sanderson’s been working his ass off, man. But that doesn’t mean any of those kids are ready for an actual fight —” Maricruz gestures in frustration, her voice weary, “— they’re gonna get slaughtered.”

“You think I don’t know that? Just—have him get on his guys to bulk up weapons. See if anyone’s willing to raid some construction sites for supplies. But they have to look the part, Mari. We’re not having another Lula incident.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

Her eyes fall on Nadya. Hard-edged just like before, but weary.

Evelyn gently pushes her way passed Nadya with the dress in hand. Starts rifling around for something and smiles at her own genius when she procures fabric shears from a shoe box.

It’s taken her a second but everything sort of clicks, then. _“You_ were Megan’s ex.” She recognizes the grief that flickers and dies — somehow feels a little angry that it isn’t harder; that it doesn’t last longer.

“Brandon, Greer — are they okay?”

“Yeah, they’re resting. Or they better be.” That’s not who she wants to ask about and Mari knows it; lets it hang between them ugly and stifling in the already uncomfortable underground air. “You holding up?”

“No, not really.” _At least she’s honest._

“Do you —”

“I want to see her.” Nadya demands, doesn’t let her finish, doesn’t want anymore hospitality or kindness from anyone.

Because seeing Maricruz again after all these months lights a fire inside her that she didn’t even know was still there. She’s done crying, worrying, grieving. Everything has gone to absolute crap in the last twelve hours and if this is where she ends up then fine — so be it — but hell if she’s not going to be _this close_ and _not see her._

The longer Mari hesitates the angrier Nadya finds herself. “Now.”

Mari and Jax exchange a look. If he keeps setting his jaw like that he’s going to grind his teeth to dust. “I’ll go to Griff. Meet me back at mine when you can.” Then he’s gone without so much as a goodbye. Behind them Evelyn huffs a laugh, mutters something about youths in a hurry and keeps cutting Nadya’s dress.

“This way.” Mari gives as a reply to the expectant quirk of Nadya’s brow.

She follows side-by-side.

* * *

Nadya has only seen giant bank vaults with spinning-wheel locks the size of her dinner table in movies — until now. Thought that ripping them out of their moorings with bits of drywall and anchorings was something only for Hollywood’s penchant for drama — until now.

She’s also definitely never seen this much actual gold in her life — until now.

The middle of the vault floor has been cleared for habitation; bars of precious metals and stacks of what Nadya now recognizes as legal documents, financial records, and auto titles sort of teetering over dangerously. Her fingers itch with that familiar desire to organize and file.

Lily’s done the same thing to the vault as she does to every space she inhabits. There’s a purple picnic blanket underneath her and a discarded pile of snack wrappers waiting to join the big garbage bin in the sky behind her.

Her video games have been replaced by six, no, seven computers. Three laptops and a tablet and three monitors with cables snaking along the floor to towers haphazardly stacked in the vault corner. And don’t even get her started on the accessory keyboards.

Flattened boxes at her sides double as desk space and a crumb-catcher. Nadya spots a neon green water bottle with a crazy straw sticking out. Objectively she knows what it contains but it doesn’t really register.

Without so much as a glance her way Mari abandons Nadya at the entrance to the vault and crouches down behind Lily where her back is turned. There’s a squeal of laughter and Mari dips her head to Lily’s neck, followed by soft moans that make Nadya shift in her borrowed boots.

She watches them with unwelcome bitterness in her heart.

Then there’s whispering, and Mari holds Lily’s shoulders and it takes Nadya a second to realize she’s holding her down. _Holding her back._

With her girlfriend’s help Lily slowly stands and turns.

Everything looks the same. She’s even wearing an outfit they bought together — right after Nadya’s first Raines Corp. paycheck, treating themselves to more than just window-shopping for the first time in months — that must have been taken from the apartment when Nadya abandoned it.

Everything looks the same but they meet each other like strangers. Lily’s eyes burn red and Nadya flinches back. There’s a difference between _knowing _and _seeing._

Until she _sees _the wounded look on Lily’s face; _knows _that she’s just hurt her best friend in the entire world even though she’s the reason Lily’s like this. — All the messages half-written that she couldn’t muster up the courage to send, never knowing if she would see them at all…

Nadya doesn’t know what to do so she does what she does best. She rambles.

“It’s not something we ever talked about, you know,” she hiccoughs out; feels her throat start to close up and that familiar burn of teary eyes, “like, what we should do if one of us gets hurt — really, _really _hurt. I know I made you my emergency contact but that was just in case because I didn’t want my mom to have to fly out here, you know? You didn’t have to do it back. But you did.”

Lily nods slowly, whispers; “But I did.”

“Who was I supposed to call, the hospital, your sister? They wouldn’t’ve known what to do. I just kept seeing you laying there and, Lil’, all that blood was…”

“I know you don’t like gore.” She says it like it’s supposed to be a laugh. Nadya isn’t laughing.

“It wasn’t gore! It was my best friend’s life all over the kitchen floor!” And Lily doesn’t know what to say to that; so Nadya keeps going.

“And I was selfish. I was selfish for not wanting to think about a world without you in it. I didn’t even think about what _you _would want, I was so focused on finding a way to make it all better.”

Through the haze of her unshed tears she watches Lily place her hand over Mari’s; sees her give the older vampire an imploring look and the barest of nods from her.

Then Lily’s across the vault room — her hands are heavy on Nadya’s shoulders but definitely not as heavy as the decision of letting her live or die had been. She thumbs the tears away from Nadya’s cheeks. Clearer, now, she can see Lily holding back her own downpour.

She’d better — together they might accidentally flood the vault.

“I’m not mad, Nadi’. I’ve had time to be mad… and thought about all the time I might have to be mad, too. And it’s just not worth it. You did way more than needed.”

“But I didn’t even think about if you would have wanted… this.”

“Yeah, you did,” Lily gives her a wry smile and a glimpse of fang, “and you knew I would make the single most badass vamp in the whole city, obviously.”

Nadya chokes on her laugh. They take one another’s hands; the cool touch strange but she’s had time to get used to it from others, now. That helps.

Her thought makes her laugh, makes Lily tilt her head curiously.

“Sure,” Nadya teases, “but what do I find? You’re still sitting around on your computer even as a vampire!”

Lily shrugs. “Well… you know what they say. Don’t mess with perfection.”

Their embrace is long enough that Nadya’s pretty sure her arms fall asleep around Lily’s neck. When the squeeze gets a little too tight all she has to do is hold her breath and her newborn vampire best friend backs off; learns the limits of her still-mortal body.

“I missed this.” They both sigh in unison; bring about more soft peals of laughter.

It’s enough. For now — _it’s enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lily, Maricruz, and Jax are back and the Shadow Den holds some new answers and changes for Nadya. What's to come? Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you.


	14. The Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Adrian and Kamilah’s fates unknown, Nadya finds unlikely allies in the Clanless. Learning how Lily is adjusting to vampire life would be a lot easier without terrifying dreams, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter content warnings:** violence, blood, grief, mentions of: drugs/alcohol, nsfw content, disturbing dream sequence, vomiting
> 
> **note:** This chapter, like the previous, implies past Gaius/Kamilah through dream sequences lived through Nadya's eyes. It's a bit hard to explain out of context. I just wanted to state that I am in _no way_ condoning the abusive relationship between Gaius and Kamilah -- but I am choosing to portray aspects of it loosely as it is a large part of Kamilah's reticence towards romance. There will be no Gaius/Kamilah in this fanfic. I just wanted to readers to be aware. Thank you.

She hastily scrubs the stinging soap from her eyes. They’re still puffy; swollen from all the crying she’s done in the last day or so. Where she should be exhausted and ready to collapse while standing, though, Nadya only feels a burning itch to move; to run.  


Though maybe that’s the borrowed homeless vampire boots she’s wearing.

“Here you go. I felt so bad when I found them in my stuff, but didn’t want to risk returning them and running into you.”

Nadya takes the folded pair of glasses Lily offers with something akin to reverence.

“Well I’m glad you didn’t.” She slides them on and gives an audible sigh of relief. “So much better.”

They leave the bathroom together — Nadya follows Lily’s lead to wherever they should be going without much question.

She’s doing well for herself. It took some coaxing for Lily to admit she still struggles with her hunger but that was a problem she had as a human, too, so Nadya isn’t that surprised. “I was already way more productive at night,” she explains cheerily, “so that wasn’t a big change either. The hardest part is probably just not knowing my own strength — and making sure to stay under the Council’s radar.”

That was something Lily was still working on forgiving her for: all the secrets. Adrian, Maricruz, the Council and the Clans… And she knows Lily has a right to be frustrated about it all but given the situation they’re currently in she’s one snarky quip away from asking Lil’ to cut her some slack.

“I was trying to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, well, that worked out _so well,_ huh?”

Maricruz and Jax share a sort of ‘corner’ underground that they’ve made their own. Everyone has somewhere to rest their heads come dawn but due to space most of it ends up being communal living. The leaders of the Clanless, however, need a place where they can talk strategy without being overheard.

Well, the leader of the Clanless, his deputy, and the deputy’s girlfriend.

“Mari and I have been great honestly, better than ever,” Lily continues, “for a few weeks there all the secrets and rushing away before the sun was up was really frustrating, obvs, but now that I get it there’s no secrets between us at all. Don’t think I gotta tell you how refreshing that is.”

They come upon the others in the entryway-slash-kitchen-slash-den-slash-gym. In the corner Jax fusses with extension cords connecting to a small portable stovetop while muttering under his breath. At a small folding table in the middle of the room Mari and Brandon hold hands over the top; Greer rubs his partner’s back softly.

Lily abandons her — “he’ll shock himself again, dumbass,” — to help Jax but before Nadya can make herself useless by standing in a corner Greer smiles tiredly and beckons her over.

They’ve changed into surprisingly regular clothes — surprising only because Greer had been very vocal at the cellar party about his flashy wardrobe and the influence his eccentric fashion had had on Brandon over the years. But their jeans are worn and washed at the knees and the only bright thing outside of a tan trench coat is Greer’s hair.

She notices bags at their feet.

“I thought your flight wasn’t for a few days.”

“Mari got us a cargo plane,” Greer explains with a thankful smile the vampire’s way, “not my preferred way of travel but it’ll get us to Wales and we can take a train from there.”

Brandon rubs his eye tiredly. “Staying is just too hard.”

“I get it.”

“We know.” They each take Nadya’s hand and squeeze. “I hope your friends made it out okay.”

_You and me both,_ Nadya thinks; doesn’t say it. She knows they’re only being optimistic for her sake — it feels wrong to take it with grace when they’ve lost someone so important to them.

“Thanks, guys. You’ll get in touch when you’re settled, right?”

“Once it’s safe.”

_“‘Safe?’”_ she parrots. Brandon nods.

“It’s complicated — we won’t be staying in London is all. That’s a story for a different day.”

Behind them comes Lily’s victory cheer followed by the smell of something smoky. Jax turns the knob on low and together they join the crowd at the table with another chair and a rusty barstool that sets him a couple heads higher than the rest.

Jax surveys the three humans with narrowed eyes — now that she’s not wearing old contacts he’s in clearer focus now and every little flicker and blink makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Food will be ready soon,” he grunts, and finally fixates on Brandon, “so let’s get into what happened.”

Mari reaches around Lily to try and swat her companion. “Not now. They’re tired!”

“Yeah, we are,” agrees Greer grimly, “but I don’t want to risk whatever happened up there happening here.” He rubs Brandon’s arm — who stays silent.

“I — I didn’t see what happened before, but…” Nadya starts — falls quiet as Greer shakes his head.

“No, you didn’t. It’s all right, lass. I’ve got this one.”

After Nadya was swept from their revelry by Kamilah, Adrian had stayed for the remainder of the song before mentioning his thirst. Megan offered to accompany him by one of the select feeding parlors and that was the last Greer and Brandon saw of her for more than an hour. Upon spotting Adrian heading towards the upper castle Brandon had stopped him — asked him where Megan had run off to.

_“She had her fill before I finished,”_ Adrian had said, _“I think she mentioned something about meeting a friend in the Moon House.”_

The Moon House would be called the Sun House in any other estate — one not catered to vampires. It was a conservatory on the farthest part of the East Wing and hosted Marcel’s collection of rare night-blooming flora; a hobby of his since moving overseas.

“She loved visiting the Royal Botanical Gardens at night…” Brandon’s wistful tone hangs heavy on them all. Greer gives his temple a kiss before carrying on.

When they found Megan she was the only one in the Moon House. She admitted to sneaking into some smaller enclave room even though the area was roped off — _“It’s been nearly twenty years since I last saw these beauties, can you blame me?”_ — and since it seemed like no one was going to kick them out of the Ball for being there they all stayed to take in the display.

He pauses — collects himself with a steady breath. “That’s when we noticed a bite mark near her neck.”

They were drunk, maybe a little high — life was good and they didn’t want the party to end so soon. Megan didn’t remember how she had gotten it; _vampires will be vampires,_ she had said, and laughed it off as something she didn’t have to worry about by virtue of being undead already.

“If she wasn’t gonna be worried about it then why would we?” He looks around the table as if genuinely seeking an answer. But it isn’t theirs to give. Judging by the haunted look in his eyes Brandon has already answered it for himself.

“We closed up the place behind us and went to head back to the ballroom,” Greer continues, “only Megan said she was hungry again and kept scratching the bite. We encouraged her, you know. She always feels better on a full stomach and… and feeding can heal you guys, you know?”

Lily shakes her head but judging by the reactions of the older vampires on either side of her yes, they’re very well aware of the benefits of a good feed.

“So we went back for drinks, Megan headed off, and the next time we saw her she was having a fuckin’ seizure in the middle of the party and no one tried to do a damn thing. Not one person. Whole room full of all those years and all that knowledge and… and…”

“Once you’ve been infected by a Feral there’s no going back.” Mari picks at an unseen part of Lily’s skirt underneath the table — can’t meet their eyes. “All you can do is run and hope to fuck you won’t Turn, too.”

“They didn’t even _try.”_ Brandon glares at Nadya though it’s lacking in real malice. “That whole Council of yours, right there, and they just watched.”

“They had their Clans to think of.” She bites out in their defense. Jax scoffs.

“More like their status and power.”

“Okay guys, come on,” Lily looks ready to jump atop the table if it mediates, “there’s no fingers to point. Or, well, no one here deserves to be pointed at. Obviously this girl got bit by a Feral before you ran into her. If we can find out how that happened…”

“The last person she was with was Raines.” Nadya doesn’t miss the look Mari throws her way. It makes her blood boil.

“I know where you’re going and I’m gonna need you to _not._ Adrian’s been working his butt off to solve the Feral problem, not make it worse.”

“Working his ass off, huh?” Jax doesn’t try to hide his distaste, “if that’s his best then I’d hate to see his worst; the world might actually end.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No — I know what I see. And what I see is a problem that isn’t getting solved no matter how hard you say your owner is working!”

Jax leaps off the stool but is stopped by Lily throwing her arm over his front.

“Jax, man, I respect the hell out of you. But don’t talk to her like that — _ever.” _There’s a growl at the tip of Lily’s tongue that Nadya is grateful for even if it’s strange to see her behave that way. But it doesn’t do a thing to make Nadya feel better about what Jax says.

Nadya raises her chin and speaks with confidence. “Adrian told me a Feral isn’t like a vampire — it’s a creature that only cares about hunger and blood. If all it takes is one bite then even so much as one Feral at the Ball put everyone at risk; human and vampire. Adrian included.”

While the Clanless leader takes back up his stool Mari diverts the conversation back to Greer.

“What happened after that? Your text said there was a _‘massacre.’”_

In the silence that follows everyone just sort of looks around at one another — trying to understand, trying to coax out answers. Nadya remembers — _God, she remembers_ — but she sort of hopes they’ll keep telling the story so she doesn’t have to hear herself say it all out loud.

She gets lucky.

“They focused on the crowd instead,” Greer says; and if Nadya closes her eyes she can still see Lester, Adrian, Vega barking out orders to get the newly Turned and the humans out of the ballroom, “and it seemed like they could handle it, you know? Like they knew what to do. But then… then there was another scream.”

Through the tide of those trying to leave bodies pushed forward. Screaming of monsters, of Ferals coming out of nowhere like they’d been hiding in the suits of armor the whole night just waiting to strike. Suddenly it wasn’t just one Feral to deal with, it was the one Feral in the ballroom and even that didn’t last long.

Maybe Megan wasn’t even the first to Turn. Maybe Megan was just the poor soul who got an audience.

Jax tugs at loose strands of his hair. “How many, on estimate?”

“Maybe a couple dozen we could see?”

Nadya swallows down her heart to keep it from staining the tabletop. “Adrian — they, the Council — they tried to keep order. Tried to get everyone out fast and as safe as they could. But no one was listening. It was chaos.”

“Not gonna lie; it was hard to figure out friend from foe when everyone was in a stampede.”

Nadya agrees with a nod; fiddles with the pendant on her wrist until the metal is warm from her touch. Over and over the scene plays behind her eyelids; a videotape stuck in a loop. The Council shouting orders to one another, older vampires taking up arms and pushing away the vulnerable. The spray of gore when Valdas sent three attackers flying across the room in a dozen pieces.

“You pretty much know the rest from there.”

“We’re glad you got out alive.” Mari insists towards Brandon. He doesn’t respond — like he doesn’t know if he shares the sentiment. “She would be glad you got out alive.”

If Jax has more questions he’s grown a brain-to-mouth filter and chooses not to ask them. He and Lily grab cheap plastic trays from a cabinet and return with the stovetop spoils of hot dogs right on the verge of being better kindling than food. Eating doesn’t fill the void inside like it should but she’s never inhaled such mediocre food with such gusto.

When they finish Mari not-so-casually mentions their time limit. Greer and Brandon give her their sincerest thanks — Jax too though the tension behind their goodbye is obvious.

Finally Brandon turns to her and Nadya finds herself crushing Brandon in a hug that makes him hunch and hold his breath. They don’t have anything else to say to one another. Words never seem to be enough, anyway.

She makes Greer reaffirm his promise to reach out. Wants to go with them if only to make sure they make the journey home without falling to pieces together but judging by the look on Maricruz’s face the three of them need privacy to mourn in their own way.

Lily snakes her arm around Nadya’s middle when the door closes.

“How about a nap?” She asks; keeps her tone lighthearted but Nadya can tell she’s not making a suggestion. “Come on, girlie, you look like the walking dead. And that’s saying something coming from the literal walking dead.”

Nadya just nods and follows.

They curl up together like they used to; face-to-face with legs tangled together because they had the same favorite throw blanket but it wasn’t big enough to span the bed. The mattress is like a brick with sheets and Lily no longer exudes the same warmth she used to but if Nadya closes her eyes and pretends with all her might… it’s like nothing has changed at all.

* * *

She keeps her distance while Lily talks with the scantily-dressed woman near the stage. Not because she’s interrupting some sort of ‘moment’ but she refuses to take off the pendant — literally _refuses _and that makes Jax livid as all get out — on her wrist and anyone who so much has an inkling of who or what the Clans are would be ready to pick a fight at the mere sight of it.

Distance can be good though. It gives Nadya time to really look at Lily. To see how she’s doing.

Being a part of their generation means identity crises and existential episodes are pretty much a given. But she’s never seen her best friend look so comfortable in her own skin.

It helps ease the knot in her gut about not giving Lily the chance to decide her own fate.

Lily raises a small black remote in hand and on command a spotlight from above flickers to life. The other vampire, Liv, hops up and marvels in absolute delight as the light follows her around the stage in several paces.

“This is just — just the best! You’re the best!” Liv scoops Lily up standing to hug her and Nadya watches fondly as she returns the hug with her own.

“Give me some time and I can make you a mix that’s one whole track with the right fade in and intro tunes, too.”

“I don’t know what I’d so without you sugar. You’re a whiz at this stuff.”

“Hey, I don’t do anything for free.”

Liv pulls back and gives Lily a wry grin. The sudden flustered look under Lily’s thick specs doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t I know it. How’s tomorrow afternoon sound?”

“Perfect.”

Liv kisses Lily’s cheeks and heads back behind thick red curtains. When Lily catches the look in Nadya’s eyes she tries not to look so utterly taken. Doesn’t mean Nadya isn’t going to tease her anyway.

“Wanna tell me what that was about, huh?” She nudges Lily repeatedly. “Huh huh huh?”

Together they leave the unofficial ‘Arts District’ of the Shadow Den; take their leave of Liv’s little clubhouse and head back towards the main plaza. Lily grins sheepishly.

“You’re so nosy! God, Liv just promised to… give me a few lessons in burlesque. See if she can cure my two left feet thing. That’s all.”

“Ah… yes, that’s all. Well I think Mari will love it.”

Lily huffs, almost lets it go before casting an embarrassed smile at Nadya. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up.”

“No _you _shut up!”

They dissolve into light teasing shoves this way and that — their laughter mingling in with the Den’s normal chatter.

“Thanks for getting me away for a bit,” Nadya says as she loops her arm in with Lily’s, “from you-know-who. Talk about one-track mind.”

Her ‘nap’ had turned into a full on twelve hour coma. The moment she awoke the leader of the Clanless was on her; question after question that she still couldn’t remember fully from the haze of sleep. She could vaguely recall Lily’s raised voice and the sound of a door slamming — then being pulled along by her best friend’s newfound strength.

Beside her Lily shrugs; tries to play it off. “You looked like you didn’t sleep well, so I get it. I hate being bothered when I’m still tired.”

“Wait — what?”

“You were tossing and turning the whole time,” Lily grabs a dull yellow apple from a nearby cart and tosses it Nadya’s way. “I tried to wake you up from you’d just give me this weird, glassy stare and then go back to sleep. That a new thing? Or some freaky nightmare?”

If she thinks about it… no, Nadya can’t remember. The last dream she could recall with detail was the nightmare on the train from the Ball but it was like she’d turned her brain off those last hours.

She only knew that when she woke everything was foggy and thick — and her body had the weight of ages she didn’t quite understand holding her down.

“Anyway,” Lily shrugs, “his head’s in the right place.”

“Whose head?”

“Jax.”

Nadya blinks in surprise. “Wait — you’re _defending him?”_

“He’s a hard-ass but he has to be. We all have to be, Nadi’. That’s how we survive in hiding.”

_We._ Hearing Lily lump herself in with the rest of them fills her with unease.

“It’s not fair.”

“No,” she agrees, “it isn’t. But until the stupid Council pulls their heads out of their asses nothing’s gonna change.”

They round a corner and Nadya stops — has to wait for Lily to realize she’s not following and turn around before she feels like she can talk.

“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure I do. Just like I know what would have happened to me if Mari and Jax hadn’t gotten me out of Raines Corp. in time.” Lily backtracks and takes Nadya’s hand. Brushes her fingers over her knuckles. “I’m not mad at you — please don’t think that. But even if Turning me saved me then it wouldn’t have done me a whole lot of good if the Council decided to ax me.

“And judging from everything I’ve heard about them, they would have just to spite Adrian it sounds like. You just weren’t thinking about the long-term.”

Nadya pulls her hand back.

“Okay… now I _know _you don’t know what happened.” She tries — and fails — to keep the low-key insulted tone out of her voice. Lily’s nose scrunches up slightly.

“Tell me if I have it right then, because maybe I _didn’t _get the full story.” Nadya nods silently. “So something attacked me at our old place and left me to bleed out, right?”

“Right.”

“And you strong-armed Adrian into Turning me into a vampire, right? — Kudos, by the way. I wish I could’ve seen it because you’re scary when you get mad.”

Nadya ignores the compliment. “Right.”

The tension between them builds. “And he’s not only a member of some stupid Council that runs the vampires in the city, he’s a _leader _of one of their groups.”

“He’s the leader of Clan Raines. And he was working on getting you the next spot in his clan when Jax and Mari kidnapped you.”

Lily’s scoff brings a tick to Nadya’s brow.

“Okay so sure, he was _‘working on it,’_ but what if whatever he tried to do failed? They would have killed me, right? Since I technically wouldn’t be part of one of their stupid Clans? No brand, no tether for my soul — all the chance and risk of becoming Feral and a danger to their stupid little quota? Right?”

What she’s saying isn’t wrong but it’s not right either.

“He wouldn’t have failed. I wouldn’t let him.”

“Yeah, like a bunch of rich vampire assholes would have listened to you?”

“You’re lumping Adrian in with one of _‘those assholes,’_ you know.”

A beat. “Yeah, I know.”

It makes Nadya step back — disgusted. Why wouldn’t she be? It’s like this is Lily but also… not. “What have Maricruz and Jax been telling you?” _What lies have they been feeding you?_

“They just showed me how the world works here, Nadya. Not just for vampires but for the way they divide us. Liv — you know, Liv, that sweetheart? Yeah, some creep from the Baron’s Clan was obsessed with her. When she turned him down like the skeezebag he was he Turned her and left her to die or go Feral so no one else could have her! Now she can’t ever perform up top again.

“And Mari — _my Mari_ — she was Turned _so she would become Feral._ That’s why she cares so freakin’ much about that stupid party! She was supposed to be some… some living weapon and when they were done with her they were gonna put her down like a rabid animal. But she was stronger than that — she’s still stronger than that. She’s worth more than any Clan vampire and then some.”

The injustice of it all makes Nadya feel dirty and heavy — things she knew on the surface but didn’t understand the full horror of until she puts faces to the tales. But the real knife in her side is the way Lily spits her words in her direction. Like she’s just another awful anonymous commenter who needs to be reminded that people are still people even if they’re different.

Lily doesn’t give her time to muster up words. She’s on a roll.

“Say you’re right. Say Adrian Raines is one of the good guys. He’s still benefited and continues to benefit off of a broken system that his cohorts continue to manipulate and bastardize for their own selfish gains.”

“Lily you need to calm down.”

“No way!”

“Well… Well he knew the risks and Turned you anyway!” _Fine, if she was going to be shouted at then she would shout, too._

“Even though I still would have died! And he wouldn’t have gotten more than a slap on the wrist!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Oh you bet your butt I do!”

They’re screaming at one another now. Nadya’s red in the face — rest and time replenishing the tears what well up at the corners of her eyes. Lily’s fists are balled at her sides and she’s not seen her this mad since possibly ever.

“When will you stop blindly trusting the people in power?! You’re better than that!”

“You’re comparing two issues that are way different!”

“Different?! I’m a _queer black woman_ in America, girl! That’s the _Clanless _of humanity!”

Behind them comes the sound of hurried shoes on concrete. Lily shakes her fist, slams it into the wall and the structure fractures slightly under the pressure. Nadya can’t help but stare at it in horror. Is left to imagine the difference between the strong rock and her fragile bones.

The fight drains out of her like it leeches from the crack in the wall. Makes her take a hesitant step back because she’s not just fighting with her friend and roommate any more. She’s fighting with someone—some _thing_—much stronger than she.

“Lil’ — I-I’m sorry.”

“This is just another label to tack onto my chest! Just another thing that might get me killed! Again!”

“Lily —”

“I mean, for fucks’ sakes Nadi’, did you even _think _about what I was going through while you were sipping champagne and wearing stupid designer dresses?!”

Before she can say another word the footsteps grow louder and Maricruz whips around the corner. She looks ready for a fight — a baseball bat in hand — but lowers it when she sees Lily and Nadya alone. Her eyes fall on the cracked wall and she stiffens.

“What’s going on here?”

Nadya makes the mistake of blinking; lets a tear fall down her cheek. Lily seethes and flashes red eyes.

“Don’t even try to make me pity you right now. At least you still had our place. At least you knew what was going on! I woke up in a fucking coffin!”

Maricruz steps in while Nadya chokes on her words. Holds one hand out warily like she’s keeping a creature at bay and stretches the other out in offering.

“Lil’, _mi amor,_ remember what I said about letting your emotions get the best of you? You’re doing it again. When was the last time you fed, baby?”

“I’m fine Mari! Jesus — you didn’t — you weren’t here when this started!”

“No baby; I wasn’t. But come on… you’re not acting like yourself.”

“W-What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?” Nadya hisses. The look Mari throws her isn’t sympathetic in the slightest.

“It’s a newborn thing. Aggression, sensitivity, violent outbursts… triggered by things that we held inside during our mortal lives.”

It makes Nadya’s heart break all over again.

She watches as Mari steps forward; inches her way through the divide until she can grasp Lily in a hug meant to both comfort and restrain. Lily heaves breaths she doesn’t need until they start to fade but when they lock eyes over the older vampire’s shoulder Nadya knows there’s no regret in the things Lily’s said. Or in how she said them.

“I didn’t know,” she begins — and Mari has to renew her hold when Lily looks ready to fight Nadya over her ignorance, “wait—_wait!_ I didn’t know… and maybe I didn’t _want _to know. And that was my fault. Because even if I didn’t know that didn’t mean you weren’t still hurting.

“I’m so sorry, Lil’. That doesn’t make it better — or make it go away — but… I am.”

She can’t hear the whispers Mari kisses into Lily’s ear but whatever they are, coupled with the soft strokes of her hand on Lily’s cheek — it calms her down. Makes her eyes fade and when she bites her bottom lip it’s with blunted teeth.

“I don’t…” Lily struggles through her desire to shout and keeps her voice even, “I don’t know if I can forgive you just yet.” It’s against everything she said when they reunited but deep down Nadya gets it.

_She wouldn’t forgive herself either._

Mari throws her a look; concern and exasperation. “How about you go find somewhere else to be, _chica?”_

“I — yeah.” Just before she takes the turn back to the plaza she looks back, though. Tortures herself with it — with the sight of Lily and Mari in a searing kiss.

She doesn’t look back a second time.

* * *

There’s an abandoned tunnel the Shadow Den doesn’t use for any big projects somewhere South of the whole complex. Lily made sure to include it in the tour because of their mutual love for internet docuseries that explore such places. And, admittedly, it _is _very cool.

It’s the place Nadya seeks out when she needs some alone time — the Lily incident now behind them both with a promise to be more open about how they were really feeling in the future — when she catches the date on Mari’s evening edition of the paper to find out it’s been three days since the Ball.

Only instead of the soothing calm of a gaping amount of nothing she runs into Jax.

Well not so much runs into him as catches sight of him and ducks back around a half-broken pillar. Debates turning back and just asking Lily if she could have the room they’re sharing to herself for a hot minute or two while she tries to deal with her feelings.

Tries to work out whether she should still have hope or carry some grief in her heart so soon.

“You know I can hear your heartbeat, right?” Jax calls out; doesn’t seem to mind if his voice distorts and warps with every echo in the chain along the stone.

She sighs and slips out of her hiding place.

At first she wants to get into it with him about being shirtless and likely cold this far below the surface but, lucky her, she remembers he’s a vampire before she says anything stupid.

His almost trademark sword rests on a sideways column to the far of the space. At his feet there’s a similar one; wood by the looks of it.

He wipes sweat from his brow with a rag that’s actually his shirt. “Do they need something back at the Den?”

“No?” Her brow crinkles, confused.

“Then why are you here?”

Nadya hops up on a pile of rocks just high enough that she can swing her legs. Feels her grip tighten on the rolled-up paper she accidentally took with her when she ran out.

She shrugs. “Same as you I guess.”

“Somehow _exercise _doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

While Jax looks her up and down with judgment clear in his eyes Nadya huffs and chucks the paper at him. He catches it swiftly — she tries not to make a comparison (even mental) to ninjas.

“You can exercise anywhere, can’t you,” she quips, “but you come here to do it alone.”

“That was the intention; sure.” Jax unfurls the paper and glances at the headline — something about the stock market, Nadya recalls, and watches him scan over the print for his answers.

Eventually she takes pity on him; gestures to the date up top. He nods. “Still no word about your masters, then. I see.”

By now Nadya knows he keeps calling them that to get a rise out of her. And with her heart in the sour place it is; somewhere in the murky waters at the bottom of a well, she just doesn’t have the energy to fall into it with him (yet again).

“Big-wigs can’t just vanish, not in New York of all places.”

He huffs; probably the closest thing to a chuckle he’s had since he was turned. Nadya’s surprised there isn’t dust lingering in his funny bone.

“On the contrary; they do all the time.”

“Not these. A mobster and a skeeze like Lester — maybe. But Adrian? Kamilah? Vega’s a _senator.”_

“This is what life is like for us. This is what happens when something needs covering up.”

Nadya glares at his back while Jax picks up his wooden sword. “All right Mister Has-All-the-Answers, tell me this. When the Council is the one who does all the covering up then who covers up the Council itself?”

He opens his mouth but falters; even in his stance — left foot sliding slightly out of place while he thinks it over.

It’s back just as quickly and the swing of the fake blade is near-perfect. Or — that’s what she assumes, knowing nothing about sword-fighting.

“Fair point.”

It’s a temporary victory but a victory regardless. Nadya’s not had enough of those lately so she takes it — holds on tight as something to remember. And her point _is _a good one.

_If they’re the most powerful vampires in New York then who has the power enough to do something like this?_

“Well good riddance I say,” Jax continues, “maybe now we can finally work towards dismantling the Clan system and coming out of the shadows.”

She swallows down her anger like bile. “Sure — until someone else steps in.”

The warrior stops in the middle of his sequence; halts the whistle of the wooden blade through the stale underground air and when he rounds on Nadya his eyes flash with intensity and passion. Not the color of his vampiric hunger but rather bright and bold. Ready to take on anything standing in his way.

“That sounds like a threat.”

Nadya snorts. “Yeah; that’s me. Tiny human Nadya stepping in to rule the Council with an iron fist and her coffee mug in a cozy.” When his stern stare doesn’t abate Nadya rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying that’s how it works in all the history books — films too. Ask Lily — that’s pretty much the arc of the first two _Modern Combat_ games.”

“And who is to say we’re not the ones to ‘step in’ and make things better?”

“Because.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

Nadya wrings her hands in her lap. He’s not backing down — so if he wants an answer she’ll give him one.

“Because… that kind of thinking implies something I can’t really accept right now.” _I have to hope. If I don’t who will?_

Whatever they talk about — the city, the vampires, Mari and Lily, probably even the weather — Nadya knows they’ll get into an argument over. Oh, she totally gives kudos to his passion. He’s the type who looks like he could make real change regardless of whether or not his asymmetrical eyebrows make her want to punch his nose.

But she knows the type. Knows that type doesn’t really brush well against the type she is.

So when he goes from impassioned stances to silent training Nadya doesn’t try to fill the empty space between them with more things for them to disagree on.

She came here for silence after all.

* * *

When the clouds part and reveal the light of the full moon her hands are soaked with blood.

Nadya stares numbly at them; wiggles them slightly and feels how they stick together as the blood begins to dry.

When she peels back her fear there’s joy — _pride._ The foreign desire — _need _— to relish her victory and the red fruit born from it. She doesn’t know what victory that is but it’s a heavy one. It weighs not just on her shoulders but inside her soul.

As her fingertips tremble in her own reverence Nadya brings them to her lips and _tastes._ Feels something like Persephone must have felt when tasting the fruit of Hell for the first time. The flavor of the blood washes along her tongue and the way it arouses her senses is nothing short of divine.

She closes her eyes to better explore the sensations — lips closed around her fingertips and sucking them clean; taking the sin within her without hesitation or fear.

Behind her arms heavy and cold wrap her in an embrace. A soft breath tickles the shell of her ear and the tongue that follows makes her shudder in a whole other kind of ecstasy.

With hazy eyes Nadya looks down — sees the smear of fresh blood along her naked body as those hands caress nonsensical paths along her curves. Long nails dripping the blood of their enemies thumb over her nipples, curl and tangle in the hair at the apex of her thighs. Seek solace lower, lower, _lower _until she throws her head back with a cry of delight that isn’t her voice at all.

Nadya turns to look into Kamilah’s bright red eyes and feels herself smile at the sight of blood brushed along her dark skin like an artist’s final work. An artist could very well have been one of their victims — she couldn’t care less.

When they kiss it’s not soft or kind. It’s _primal;_ two forces meeting across the world where they should never touch and bringing reality down with it.

Together they fall upon the fur-lined mattress. The lumps displease her but Kamilah shushes her protests with another breath-stealing kiss. Lays her back down on woolen pillows so she can watch her lover with reverence.

And revere her she does — doesn’t even let herself blink for worry that she might miss one second of Kamilah’s glowing beauty and majesty. Majesty that her Queen showers upon her with adoration and devotion.

_This is the way the world should always be._ Never a lack of prey — the thrill of the hunt followed by all the things that make immortality worthwhile. And with Kamilah at her side they might just very well see it done.

“Come, my love.” Nadya purrs; reaches out and takes Kamilah’s hand in hers to pull the woman up to her lips. Scrapes her fangs along Kamilah’s lower lip and strokes bloody smears over the swell of her curved cheeks.

She sighs in contentment; the calm before the storm. “Together we will see it done.”

“See what done, my love?”

She brushes the hair out of her beloved’s face and this time her kiss is sweet; chaste. A promise of what will never be. — Of what only one woman was capable of ever taking from her.

No, not a woman. _A goddess._

But for now… Kamilah will suffice.

“Our vision for a perfect world.”

Kamilah’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes then. But it’s a small gesture, could be caused by so many millions of little things that Nadya pays no mind to it; instead sets her Queen free to continue the worship of her body.

“With you by my side,” Nadya continues, “everything is not only possible… but attainable. Just within our grasp.” She rests back upon the bed properly; settles in for the coming dawn that will put an end to their fun only for a brief time. Lets her eyes close as she delights in her Queen’s affections.

Kamilah’s breath is a warm sigh against her inner thighs.

“Yes, my King.”

Nadya opens her eyes to the polished sheen of the looking glass mounted above them. Stares into her own blood-red eyes and the wicked, all-knowing curl of her fanged lips. Kamilah’s head bobs rhythmically between her legs and yet she takes a moment to admire her eternal beauty and power.

When she speaks again she watches her words on Gaius’ tongue. Strokes her fingers through Gaius’ hair down a path along Gaius’ blood-soaked nakedness. And she feels Gaius’ darkness bubbling inside; the storm unleashed.

“And nothing — _nothing _— will stop us.”

Snap. _Snap snap._

“Hello? Ground control to Major Al Jamil, are you with me Al Jamil?”

_Snap._

There’s nothing above Lily’s bed but shadowed concrete but Nadya can’t unsee it. Even when she blinks and rubs her eyes until there are little spots of colors without names flashing in her vision there, too, is Gaius.

_He knows he’s there._ He’s grinning at her. Teeth stained red and face stained red and body stained red and soul stained an utterly pitch dark black that she doesn’t think it counts as a color anymore.

Snap snap _snap!_ “Nadya!”

The panic in Lily’s voice makes sense when Nadya realizes her heart is racing like she’s just run a marathon.

She looks at her friend slowly; has to blink away the bright spots until Lily’s concerned face comes into clarity.

“You were asleep when I left and when I came back you just…” Lily’s voice wavers, “It was like you were in a trance. You kept staring up but when I looked over you it was like you were looking _through me,_ girl.” She looks on the edge of a joke but it fades fast when Nadya feels her stomach do a somersault.

She bursts out of the bed, trips over boots and a small stack of computer whats-its that sting her bare feet; rushes to the bathroom and just barely makes it to the shower floor drain before she vomits.

Lily’s there holding her hair back like any best friend would. Petting her shoulders and offering soothing nothings like _“it’s okay”_ and _“just let it out”_ like they’re coming back from a night out of fun or something.

_Definitely not fun._

At some point there’s nothing but water and bile left in her stomach to hurl and her body knows it — stops making her feel that lurching pain of wanting to dispel a poison from her insides and leaves nothing but sore exhaustion.

Lily coaxes her onto the rusty workout bench that serves as a casual place to sit — probably taken from some garbage route or another. Offers her a lukewarm ginger ale that’s more about the intention than the action. But it’s better at nixing the taste than water would be.

All of Lily’s questions push themselves closer and closer to the tip of her tongue with every silent minute; repeatedly opening and closing her mouth when she thinks better of marring whatever Nadya needs to do to recover.

When she finishes the soda she stands, wants nothing more than just to crawl back into bed and hope for the sweet release of unconsciousness. Lily holds her back with a gentle grasp.

“I’ll talk about it later, Lil’. Please.” She mumbles wearily.

Lily nods. “Hey, you do what you gotta do — I’m not gonna push it. But this isn’t about, uh, that.” She gestures back to the bathroom with a grimace. “Jax was doing his walk of the plaza and caught two strangers — vampires he’d never seen before, a man and a woman — talking about that Ball.”

Nadya foolishly lets her heart skip a beat. _Could it be them?_

Lily continues, wary; “He cornered them about it, obvs. Then they, uh… they mentioned you by name, Nadi’.”

Judging by the look Lily gives her when their eyes meet that’s not a good thing. Makes her heart stink into her vacant stomach because _no, it’s not them… why did you trick yourself into hoping?_

But if it wasn’t Kamilah and Adrian then who was it?

She doesn’t waste time to dress; pulls on her hoodie from college that Lily accidentally stole and follows her out to the main room.

Only the table hasn’t been set out and the chairs are still stacked in the corner. Mari and Jax pause mid-word and look over the shoulders of the strange vampires to where she lingers with Lily in the doorway.

Whatever was left inside of her that could be considered hopeful withers and hardens into sour fear. Makes her watch, frozen against her will, as Valdas turns with Isseya on his arm and a grim-set frown.

“Miss Nadya,” Valdas greets, “a pleasure to see you unscathed. You have been ordered to make a testimonial at the trial of one Adrian Raines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d love to know your thoughts on what’s happening in Nadya’s dreams. Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you for reading!


	15. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valdas and Isseya come to collect Nadya as a witness for Adrian’s trial. Tired of things being out of her control, she takes matters into her own hands with Kamilah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter content warnings:** violence, nsfw content

In everyone else’s defense she is just as surprised as they are by her howling laughter.

Not really the reaction one would be expected to have after getting another heaping pile of bad news on top of the garbage landfill that’s become her life recently. But the brain works in mysterious ways.

Lily, the only one even remotely qualified to try and dissect the strange being Nadya’s found herself becoming, pulls her close with a glare at the intruders. She looks rapidly between Valdas and Isseya — can’t seem to figure out which one she wants to direct her hatred at more.

“Yeah well since that’s not happening I guess you can take your leave. Buh-bye now.”

They don’t move. Literally — from here it looks like they aren’t even breathing. It makes Nadya’s skin crawl; just another weird emotion in the unstable bowl of soup inside her.

Valdas removes his sunglasses — _sunglasses, underground, when he can’t even go into the sunlight; the mark of the douchebag_ — and cocks them in the dip of his silken dress shirt.

“This isn’t a voluntary matter. Even if it were I’m rather surprised you _wouldn’t _want to leap to Raines’ aid.”

His flippant tone helps Nadya calm her laughter enough to compose herself.

“Adrian’s — I mean that means he’s alive. That _does _mean he’s alive, right?” His curt nod makes her feel weak in the knees. “And Kamilah…?”

“If you keep standing here fretting there are no guarantees. On both the lives of your friends and your own.” Isseya yawns as she says it; like this entire ordeal bores her.

To Nadya’s surprise it’s Jax who steps around — places himself between her and the other vampires.

He reaches for the sword at his back; lets it rest on the hilt. “Is that a threat?”

The couple laugh in sync. Isseya rolls her eyes. “When we threaten you, pet —”

And witnessing such speed again makes Nadya sweat — reminds her of Isseya’s nails digging into her neck. Makes her practically crush herself against the safety of Lily’s side.

Valdas holds Jax several inches off the ground. Just enough for his boots to scrape by with the promise and denial of stability. He struggles to pry the man’s hand from his throat. Lashes out with fangs and red eyes that show no sign of deterring Valdas in the slightest.

_“— you’ll know it.”_ He finishes his partner’s sentence. Opens his hold like one might a machine for Jax to fall and walks at a human pace back so Isseya can wrap herself around his arm.

Jax rubs his throat and makes a real move for his katana. Behind him Maricruz looks ready to jump one — or both — of them from behind.

Isseya rolls her eyes.

“Are you all really so foolish? Or is it that you hate your grimy lives down here so much that you’d use us as a way to set you free of it?”

Maricruz actually growls. _“¡No mames!_ Shut up if you know what’s good for you.”

But before the Clanless can make a move Nadya rushes out with her arms extended.

“Don’t! Jax… don’t. You don’t know who they are.”

He scoffs. “I don’t need to. I know their type.”

“No, you _don’t,”_ and she lowers her voice, “they’ll kill you. Just stop.” But before any more quips can spark the blaze she gives a glare to the Trinity. “Insulting my friends is probably not the best way to get me to go with you. I want to help Adrian — but they’re not wrong either. So talk.”

They look at one another without a word. Maybe two thousand years with someone erases the boundaries of language — or maybe they’re actually telepathic. The second thought feels intrusive and upsetting so Nadya pushes it aside with all her might.

“We will be happy to explain on the way.” Valdas says finally. “Is that enough of a compromise?”

_Not even close,_ Nadya thinks, but if her stubbornness is what makes the difference between Adrian living and dying she’ll never forgive herself for sticking to her scruples.

Then Lily’s at her arm and interlaces their fingers. “No way she’s going with you creeps alone. I’m coming with.”

“Hell no.”

Mari appears at her side in a blur with a concerned frown. She cups her girlfriend’s cheek and Lily leans into it with a tiny smile.

“She’s my best friend. I’ll be fine.”

“Friend or not, _mi amor,_ walking into a Council trial is suicide for the likes of us.”

Lily falters slightly — as if the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. “Oh.”

Jax agrees. “As it is I’m still deciding if we’re going to let you leave here at all.” Did he _not _just almost die for saying that stuff? Nadya doesn’t even try anymore. “The Council can’t know where we are. Not after everything we’ve done to make this place safe.”

“I don’t know which is more amusing,” croons Isseya, “that you think you could stop us or that you think we care about your menial cluster of vagabonds. You swarm like insects hiding in plain sight and call yourselves hidden.”

Her scorn dies with Valdas’ stare. “What my beloved means is that your existence; your little hidey-hole, is inconsequential to us. We are here on _behalf _of the Council — not as part of it.”

“Then promise not to tell the Council the location of the Shadow Den,” demands Nadya, “it’s that simple.”

Because she knows Lily and her humor she’s glad that Valdas answers, gaze locked with Jax’s, before she has the chance to make a joke about a measuring contest.

“Very well. If we’re through wasting time, then, ladies?”

The Trinity and their luxury look more suited to a runway in Paris than the Spartan lives of those in the Shadow Den. It’s no wonder every conversation stops and any witnesses stare openly while their leader and his deputy, along with the strange human girl, head towards the exit closest to the city center.

Maricruz steals Lily for one more goodbye — not a last one, just one more — with an embrace that could break bones and a kiss filled with so much longing that even Valdas looks away after several seconds.

All Nadya can think is why she didn’t do that to Kamilah when she thought it might really be the last, and not just one more.

Jax rests his hand on Nadya’s shoulder; makes her flinch briefly and actually seems remorseful over it.

“Lily knows how to contact us. The second anything seems fishy you run like hell, got it?”

“I think I know how to deal with vampires by now. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“As I seem to recall you were being locked in a dungeon at your first rodeo.”

She huffs.

“Well I’ve learned a lot since then.”

A strange look comes over him; _concern,_ maybe? She’s not used to it being directed her way so it throws her off her game.

“I hope so,” he replies, “but from everything I’ve seen so far…”

“Watch how you finish that.”

“Stop — please just listen, will you? Any vampire you meet is going to be stronger, smarter, faster than you. That’s just the way it works. But you can’t let that stay your hand and keep you from fighting. You have to try — even if the chances are slim to none. _‘Slim’_ is better than _‘impossible’_ in my book.”

She thinks back to his readiness to threaten Valdas — not just once but twice and that following nearly having his head ripped off his neck. It sucks to admit but he kinda-sorta has a point.

There’s an uncomfortable feeling inside her chest; makes Nadya frown down at her shoes before she can muster up the words.

“I’m not strong enough. You said it yourself — I’m just a human.”

“Hey, humans have been a thorn in our sides since the dawn of time, or civilization, or whatever.” He squeezes her again and she can feel it; the power lurking beneath his skin — and the restraint he shows with it, too. “Don’t underestimate yourself.”

“It’s more than that, Jax. It’s —”

“Stop.”

He interrupts her curtly. Makes her have to look him in the eyes before carrying on. “When I asked Espinoza how all that went down with Lily you know what she told me? She said that the same human who let herself be captured and rescued looked a vampire right in the eyes — looked _Council member Adrian Raines_ right in the eyes — and told him that she wasn’t taking no for an answer. I don’t see that human right now — but I saw her back at the train station. And she’s probably shown up other times too — whenever her friends have needed her.

“We all need something to fight for. For me it’s everyone in the Shadow Den; everyone forced into a life on the run with no say in their lives. For you, Nadya, it seems like it’s your friends. So if thinking about your friends gives you the balls to tell the Council to _‘fuck off’_ then start putting together a photo album or something, you know? Whatever it takes.”

_Whatever it takes._ The tightness in her chest isn’t gone but it’s definitely easier to breathe. Was he actually being… nice to her? Telling her how she needed to find the strength to help her friend a Clan Leader?

She makes a mental note to buy a lotto ticket when they’re back on the surface.

“You were a motivational speaker before you were Turned,” she teases, “weren’t you?”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. I bet there’s a self-help book hidden in the back corner of every bookstore. What’s it called… ooh, I bet it’s something like —”

He stops her with a hand over her mouth but the mirth in his eyes is genuine. Jax may not find it nearly as funny but at least he’s not glaring at her any longer. And honestly his advice is comforting. Enough to help her find the strength to turn around and join the vampires by the service stairwell towards the subway above.

“Be safe.” Lily says to Jax and throws one last parting kiss at Mari.

The Trinity has had enough of their sentiments. Evidenced by the groan of the metal handle under Isseya’s grip. “Come. A car will be waiting for us.”

With Isseya at the lead and Valdas behind them the four begin the winding path up into the world.

Lily holds her hand the whole way — and she couldn’t ask for a better best friend.

* * *

The driver steps out onto the curb and opens their door. The rush of noise and light takes a second to get used to but it soothes Nadya like a long-lost home. Thunder rumbles up above, bounces off every building around them in a drumming tune.

She looks around the crowded sidewalk — turning this way and that to get her bearings — but quickly realizes she doesn’t have to and ducks her head to see where Valdas and Isseya remain seated.

“What’s going on? I thought you were taking us to Adrian’s trial.”

“The Council requires all those giving testimony to be in their personal hands at least twenty-four hours before proceeding,” Valdas states with boredom. Beside him Isseya picks up her vibrating phone from her lap and answers with a sultry purr.

“Impatience is an ugly thing, Priya. We’ve just finished dropping them off. You’ve saved me the blond one, haven’t you?”

Nadya recoils in disgust at Priya’s name. “That answers who _you’re _staying with, then.”

While his partner continues making demands on the phone Valdas gives a lazy salute to the pair of them.

“It’s been a pleasure, Miss Nadya. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night.”

She doesn’t get the chance to respond — the driver slams the door practically in her face and when he peels away from the curb at least half a dozen taxi horns screech in protest to his blatant disrespect of the rules of the road.

That’s when the skies open up; slowly and then all at once. The first drop that tickles Nadya’s nose is soon joined by another, then another, and then the storm blankets New York in a sheet of water.

Lily breathes in the night and rain with a stretch and gusto. “God I missed this! And good riddance! I don’t know if I could have spent a whole day with them.” She looks around for the street intersections — tries to place where they are. “So… you know where we’re going, right? And is it like… safe for someone like me? Because I’m kinda hungry — if you know what I mean.”

“You know, I think I do.” There’s teasing behind her sarcasm. Nadya jerks her head to the glossy black doors of the skyscraper they were dropped in front of. “Let’s get inside.”

Lily cranes her neck up and _up _with awe. Nadya, though — she’s grown familiar with the view. It’s even better up top.

The same security guard lazes around at the same desk. Stops not-so-sneakily watching _The Crown and the Flame_ on his phone as Nadya approaches.

“Haven’t seen you in some time, Miss Al Jamil.”

“Hi Doug.” She greets back and offers her best and most innocent smile. “Would you hate me if I said I left my key at the office?”

Doug gives a jovial, if exasperated, sigh. “I could never hate you, dear. I just wish you’d be honest with me and say you lost it again so we can change the code. You know how she values her privacy.” He looks over his glasses at Lily with a trained, if borderline retired, scrutiny. “Can’t say I’ve ever met you before little lady but judgin’ by that hair your name is Lily.”

“Uh — yeah…?” Lily gives Nadya a wary look that makes the guard chuckle.

“Miss Al Jamil’s told me all about you. Next time you gotta go through the proper channels though, you know that.”

Nadya nods. “I promise. It was… a sort of last-minute thing. She’ll be okay with it.”

“Welp, still gotta have you sign her in.” He taps a clipboard on the ledge in front of him and Nadya hastily writes in Lily’s name. “You gals planning on going out before dawn?”

“Yeah—no thanks.” Lily seems positively disgusted at the thought.

Nadya elbows her gently. “No, but thank you for checking.”

Doug types up Lily’s name on the computer and hits a button on the underside of his large obsidian desk. Behind him the glass doors click and begin to open automatically. He tips his hat off to them.

“Have a good evening Miss Al Jamil, and friend Lily!”

“You too, pal.”

“See you tomorrow Doug.”

Once they’re clear of the lobby, elevator button alight and calling one down, Lily gives Nadya a light shove.

“Dude!”

“What? And _ow!”_

“I was sort of making fun of you when I went on about your fancy life but… _dude.”_

“This isn’t me. This is the people I know.”

Lily takes in the luxury of the atrium around them with awe she doesn’t even try to contain. “Still… it’s a step up from a broken fire escape ladder and homophobic neighbors.”

They enter the elevator together and Lily’s whistle when she hits the ‘P’ for penthouse doesn’t go unheard.

Her eyes flick upwards to the building name in large gold block-letters on the far wall. She holds the gaze of _‘AHMANET FINANCIAL’_ until the doors close them off.

“Yeah, I guess.”

* * *

Gerard has the door open before she can even give Lily the low-down on what to expect.

She greets him with a wide and genuine smile; it quickly falters when she sees him hastily dab at his eyes with his pocket hanky.

“What’s wrong, are you okay?” She hovers her hands over his arms, doesn’t know how to help but wants to, and then finds herself in a crushing hug. He smells of fresh baking with just a hint of mothballs. Like how someone’s grandpa is supposed to smell in an ideal world.

“Forgive my impropriety, Miss,” his voice wavers both with emotion and his age, “I promised I’d hold myself intact. But seeing you unharmed after everything that happened…”

Nadya squeezes him tight. Didn’t know how much she needed the comforting touch of another human being after all that’s happened until that moment.

“I’m okay, Gerard. And I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

She introduces Lily — the butler looks ready to reaffirm his _‘stiff upper lip’_ mentality but Lily doesn’t give him the chance and greets him in a hug of her own. She’s told him enough about how much she missed her friend that he doesn’t particularly mind.

“I only expected Miss Nadya here — but let me get you something to warm your bones.” Gerard pauses and shakes his head; laughs at himself. “Silly me. Well — you know what I mean.”

But when he goes to lead them into the kitchen Nadya stops — looks around the penthouse with haste to try and find some small indication Kamilah’s been there.

Stupid butler keeps everything spotless, though. No, she doesn’t think he’s stupid. But a little mess never hurt anyone.

Then a weathered hand on her shoulder makes her jump a mile.

“Lady Kamilah’s gone up for a swim,” Gerard whispers in her ear, “lots on her mind — you know how she can be.”

Nadya nods; resigns herself to waiting for Kamilah… again.

“I’ll give her some time then…”

But he stops her from turning around. Fixes Nadya with a stern look.

“I rather think you should go to her instead.”

“But —”

“Don’t worry about Miss Lily. She’s in good hands. You and Lady Kamilah need one another right now, I should think. Could do you both some good.”

_She’d never say it — but she needs you,_ say Gerard’s eyes. Nadya finds herself hugging him again before rushing out the back balcony door and into the rain.

* * *

When she was thirteen Nadya’s mother forced her to go to a two-week sleepaway camp in the mountains. It was something her mom had done as a young girl with her sister, and something her cousins had been doing since they were old enough to beg for the chance.

Nadya was never an outdoors-y person though, and dreaded every hour of her summer up until the time when she was watching her mother drive down the gravel road; leaving her behind.

She learned a lot of things at that camp — all of them useless in the long run but seemed so vital and important while there. And she only looked forward to one thing: the pool. Unfortunately that summer—the summer of her thirteenth year—Colorado had never seen so much rain.

_“Why can’t we go in when it’s raining?”_ Asked every girl in the same whining preteen voice.

And the counselors would always reply with the same stern tone of an adult. _“Because it isn’t about the rain, it’s about the lightning. That would be quite a shock in the end!”_ And the adults would laugh at their glorious joke and move on to something else entirely.

But every time it rained, even when there wasn’t a bolt of lightning in sight, Nadya would lean against the windowsill of the dining cabin and stare at the pool with a sigh of longing.

Though the rain tries to diminish the bright city lights it only makes everything look glassy. It clings to Nadya’s glasses and runs down in trails — she has to squint to see but can make her way up well enough.

The sight of Kamilah laying spread-eagled on the dark surface of the pool reminds her of that camp; the rules of the water driven home in her skull.

“Kamilah!”

The woman’s hair spreads in inky tendrils just under the surface of the water. Nadya stands soaked to the bone and shivering yet Kamilah’s eternal beauty is as still as it is naked.

Nadya’s voice cracks when she calls out again. “Kamilah!”

Through the rain she thinks she might catch the vampire’s eyes opening but doesn’t have a chance to call out again. Suddenly there’s a hand around her throat and she’s pinned to the stone wall near the stairs.

The corner of the brick is sharp and digs into her back and the press of Kamilah’s grasp against her neck is a hundred lifetimes of pressure keeping her from breathing. She forces her eyes up; wants to take into her memory the sight of Kamilah’s bare body but what use will it have if she’s not alive to remember it?

Kamilah’s eyes are dark and hazy. She looks both _at _Nadya and _through _her. No fangs in sight. Her hair clings soaked to her shoulders.

When she tries to say Kamilah’s name again nothing comes out. She doesn’t choke — just simply can’t find the word. What is a name compared to the creature of beauty in front of her? Instead her words surprise even her.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

Like a golem brought to life without a purpose Kamilah stares vacant. Her hand falls back to her side; allows Nadya to take a large gulp of air and taste the salt of the rain on her tongue.

“I’m _here,”_ she repeats; doesn’t know where or how or if to touch Kamilah in her fragile state but if she’s right, if Kamilah’s having her own response to being thrust into the void with nothing to cling to, then she’ll risk her life a hundred times over to stop her from falling.

Nadya delicately cups Kamilah’s cheeks. The rain looks like teardrops falling down her curved expression. Nadya knows better. “I’m here,” again, “I’m here… I’m here for you I swear. I’m not going anywhere ever again a-and I’m… I’m here Kamilah so—so please just… just know I’ve got you. I’ve got you — _I’ve got you.”_

The first time she kisses Kamilah it’s not like any of her dreams at all. Taking into account some of her more recent nightmares though… well it’s bittersweet.

It’s like kissing a statue — cradling the Venus de Milo in her hands and hoping she might have the magical affinity to turn the marble into flesh. She doesn’t stop — hopes she’s doing the right thing somewhere in the back of her mind.

Hopes—_prays_—that she’s right. That the rain is only acting as a curtain. That Kamilah might feel the sa—

The stone melts away and soft lips begin to kiss back. First with gentle touches. Trying to understand what’s happening, who they are — discovering something for the first time in thousands of years.

Like a waltz Kamilah steps back and Nadya moves with her — desperate to seek out her mouth, her taste. And to get away from the brick digging into her back.

Her hands rest chastely on the vampire’s bare hips. Electricity sparking in every touch and threatening to gather its own thundercloud over their heads.

This time when their eyes meet she knows Kamilah _is _looking at her. Not just that — but deep into her soul with that slight tick in her perfect brow and those plush lips turned down. Confusion, retaliation, denial beginning to bubble up to the surface.

Nadya doesn’t think she’d be able to survive Kamilah retreating. Her heart couldn’t take it.

“I’m here.” She whispers; a final plea. _I’m here. See me. Have me. I’m yours._

Kamilah’s reply is almost lost in the howling wind.

“If you truly knew what you’re asking for…”

“Stop —” she pushes a rain-slicked palm across Kamilah’s head to move her hair out of her eyes, “— don’t. I’m here, that’s all. _I’m here.”_

There’s rueful regret in the way Kamilah’s expression softens — in the way her eyes roam over Nadya’s desperate face to try and latch onto one single speck of hesitation or regret and use it as a way to push them apart.

She doesn’t find any. So she leans forward and meets their lips. Marble on flesh, eternity on youth. Nadya doesn’t spare a thought to yielding.

The path back to the penthouse is a struggle not only because Nadya is clumsy even when she’s paying attention but also because sometimes movement requires pulling away — and neither of them can be fussed with a concept so awful — so _impossible._ Now that they’ve discovered what it feels like to kiss one another they have the same singular thought that means they have to catch up on every time they could have—_should have, would have_—done this before.

At this rate it might be more than Nadya’s oxygen-starved brain can handle. She’s okay with that.

Then her clothes go from sopping wet and a mild nuisance to utterly _please-get-off-me_ and Kamilah, somehow developing a psychic tendency between the pool and the doorway, agrees. Tears her shirt quite literally off except for one lone short sleeve.

Well as long as it isn’t in the way.

The same strong grip finds her jeans and Nadya finds enough of herself to reach down and cover those hands with her own. “C-Carefu—hh,” she tries; can’t exactly manage to speak with the way Kamilah intends to suck her soul out through her mouth. But the point is made; because when her zipper catches on soaked-through denim Kamilah rips it hard enough for the clink of metal to sound off in the distance.

Nadya fumbles for purchase on _anything _when Kamilah’s cold hands dig into her bottoms. Find the scalding heat between her folds and drag the soft tips of her nails along Nadya’s clit. It’s too much unreleased tension at once for Nadya to even think about trying to keep her voice down but there Kamilah is ready to drink up every decibel like the best wine in the world.

The door jamb digs into her back; makes Nadya arch her spine as much as she can with a whine of complaint — until there’s no doorway under her hand, rather a pillow instead, and the soft press of a mattress bends with her and takes Nadya from Cloud Nine to Heaven itself.

Three miracles happen at once.

The first is a crack of lightning against the window-wall of Nadya’s room. Gerard’s kept the curtains pulled back — knows she likes seeing the city at night to help her fall asleep. The brightness blinds her now but who needs sight when she can feel—touch—_taste _all that’s atop her.

The second is the tentative exploration and press of Kamilah’s fingers inside her. Cold as ice yet slick with her arousal Nadya keens loud, unabashed. Suddenly wishes she hadn’t said a thing about the jeans because they’re too tight—too cold—_they need to be gone._

And the third scares her; Kamilah pulling away and the rush of air in her lungs making her dizzy but the vampiress holds herself _just out of reach_ of a ravishing. She looks down at her prone, human form and suddenly Nadya wants to cover up — hide in the darkness and away from the omniscient quality of Kamilah’s eyes. She can see herself reflected back in them and she looks…

With a cocked head Kamilah crooks one finger inside her and Nadya stops caring what she looks like. Settles instead on how incomparable _this right here_ is to any ridiculous notion her imagination may have had before because the real thing is leagues better. _Leagues._

With desperate, high-pitched noises Nadya tries to shimmy her hips on the bedspread. Either to strip or encourage Kamilah to keep with the ripping of the clothes.

She doesn’t. Just bends her other finger and draws a lazy circle with the pad of her thumb that Nadya weeps for.

Time might keep going around them but it certainly doesn’t mean a whole lot. The world outside the confines of the bed, through the door and out of the building where Adrian isn’t safe and her friends mourn their losses and plotters of evil lurk in the shadows — it surrounds them and it’s still important but it just doesn't seem to matter.

Not when the dexterous goddess above her maneuvers a third finger in the continued pursuit of exploring all the ways to drive Nadya absolutely _wild._

Kamilah’s nail scrapes along her clit again — sends shocks of pleasure-bordered-pain that she would howl into the air above them if familiar lips weren’t suddenly suffocating her.

Oh my god oh my god _ohmygod _— Is she saying it out loud? Does it really matter? Because Kamilah isn’t stopping and Nadya doesn’t want her to stop — not ever. Wants the rest of her life to be frozen in this exact moment in time until Death comes a-knocking.

She’s digging her fingertips into Kamilah’s back; writhing underneath her with wordless sounds and the imprint of lightning behind her closed eyelids. Everything hurts only because it’s _too much_ and that’s the best way to be.

Slowly Kamilah peels her lips away — replaces it with a steady but soft grip on Nadya’s jaw. Her forefinger strokes along the damp curve of her human cheek.

Nadya tries not to think about the vulnerability of the moment. Of how Kamilah can see her clear as day yet she has to squint in the black to try and make out the woman’s expression — to know if she’s doing something right.

_Don’t grow tired after this… Don’t become bored of me._

The hand tilts Nadya’s jaw. Urges her to the side to expose the pounding veins in her neck.

There’s a small bit of rational Nadya left in her brain and she sets off the bells and whistles while screaming with a bullhorn. _Stop! Danger! Alert! Vampire!! VAMPIRE!!!_ She doesn’t know whether it wants her to stop or to get Kamilah to stop but it nearly wins — nearly convinces her to take a metaphorical step back and turn back to better things like kissing. Kissing was excellent.

Instead, and in contrast to everything safe, she holds her breath — closes her eyes. Lets Kamilah take the lead (like she hasn’t been already?) because not only does she deserve to be eaten if this is what everything has been leading to but she trusts the woman above her. 

_She trusts her with her blood. With her life._

Despite the pool of molten pleasure she’s drowning in Nadya can’t help but tense when Kamilah descends on her neck. Readies herself the only way she knows how — thinks of all the times she’s had shots or stitches in her life and tries to put them all together at once and imagines that is what being bitten by a vampire feels like.

Being bitten by a vampire feels extremely _soft,_ actually. Then she realizes she’s not being bitten at all but instead just kissed somewhere new.

Her pulse thunders under Kamilah’s lips; trying to stop it only makes her heart race faster, her blood pump harder. Then there’s a hot breath and warm scrape that makes her cringe but Kamilah’s teeth stay blunt on her skin. The warmth of her tongue drags along goosebumps and makes Nadya briefly consider passing out to stop herself from having the opportunity to do something embarrassing.

Below her belt Kamilah’s fingers begin to move faster. Slick and sticky; warmed to the inside of Nadya’s body and eager for something very nearly in sight. She trails kisses mouthed along the human’s sweaty neck. There’s _something _building up inside her — but doesn’t that _something _mean there might be an end?

_God, please never let this end. Please._

Faster and faster — there’s no way a human would be able to match that speed and if she could form words she’d accuse Kamilah of cheating. Lucky for her Nadya can’t form words. Legs trembling in oscillating waves; so violent she’s fearful of actually kicking the woman then in such small movements her muscles strain with the effort.

Kamilah’s lips stop at their goal. Playfully nip the lobe of Nadya’s ear before she noses the shell with a cat-like purr.

Desperately Nadya tries to turn her head, feels that _something _with one foot off of the cliff; wants to see the look in Kamilah’s eyes — or vice versa.

She’s one strangled breath away from begging for the woman’s attention when there’s a sigh in her ear. Kamilah’s voice is dark and somehow forbidden. It rasps heavy on her heart and brings up a literal geyser of emotions — all wordless in nature — that lock her limbs and _god they hurt_ but she never wants them to go away.

_“I’m here,”_ whispers Kamilah, _“I’ve got you.”_

Yes, Nadya has cried more in the last few days then she has in her entire life and yes she’s pretty tired of it. But when she literally sobs her release with shuddering hips and thighs clenching around Kamilah’s hand she doesn’t mind one bit.

Doesn’t mind the light, torturous way the woman peppers kisses down her neck to her heart hammering between her sweat-slicked breasts and kisses there, too. Right on the flat of her sternum. Piercing it like a knife to the heart.

Kamilah rides her through her orgasm like she’s taming a beast — shushes Nadya’s fumbled failed attempts at words and caresses her soaked hair with a free hand. Playfully (maybe, because there has to be some torture technique achingly similar and if anyone would know it, Kamilah would) flicks Nadya’s clit with lazy strokes of her thumb until it’s no longer an aftershock but the pain of going _too hard_ for _too long_ and being _too exhausted_ to get the good things going.

When Kamilah speaks again the calm demand of her tone is gone; replaced by something that maybe—possibly—once upon a time could have been called affection.

Even now—_especially now_—she’s just not sure.

“I’ve got you, Nadya.”

Like a trigger pulled exhaustion falls down on her chest in a weight. Makes it hard to breathe, think, do anything other than curl into herself as tightly as she can and press against Kamilah’s solid presence.

Something that sounds vaguely like _“stay”_ rolls off her tongue tasting of heavy cotton. Kamilah shushes her and mindlessly Nadya obeys.

“I’m here…”

The dark that claims her is warm; inviting.

Kamilah kisses her forehead.

“I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally--I know! But it wouldn’t be Kamilah if it wasn’t the slowest of slow burns. Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you for reading!


	16. The Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamilah and Nadya don’t deal with the day after. Together the girls journey to the Council Chamber for Adrian’s trial. Nadya is shaken when she comes upon a throne she shouldn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter content warnings:** dizziness, language

_"You would do well to hold your tongue.”_   


_“Forgive me, my King. You know I don’t mean to speak out of turn —”_

_“And yet you persist in doing so. I would have thought your disposable nature would be cemented in your mind after your ascension to the role at my side.”_

_“Yes, I—I understand. But what you’re suggesting is…”_

_“What our King suggests is_ not _our place to question, Adrian.”_

_“Of course, Kamilah. I understand. My apologies, my King.”_

_“As always you are forgiven. How could I not forgive you in your youthful ignorance? One day you will have lived as long as I do now. You will have seen empires of mortals rise and fall and know that we are that which remains._

_One day you will understand. For now… begone. Both of you.”_

_“Yes, my King.”_

_“Yes, my love.”_

Nadya doesn’t know which is more terrifying to think about; that she’s getting used to these nightmares or that she’s come to expect them.

But sitting on a gilded throne in a cavern… being both herself and someone else — _and an awful someone else at that_ — at least it’s getting easier and easier to wake from the dreams. She just wants them to go away.

She’s alone in her bed. She’s in her bed at Kamilah’s penthouse. Her hair is still damp but the sheets underneath her body have long-since dried. When she moves something tugs at her arm — she looks to see the remains of a shirt sleeve still clinging to life on her shoulder.

That, too, Nadya might accidentally convince herself was a dream if not for all the worldly evidence that said otherwise. Screamed it, even.

Her legs feel like jelly but Nadya forces herself up and into a shower. Relishes the fact that it’s not the awkward carved-out space in Lily’s place — however homey it was and however generous she was to share it — but an actual, tile-and-tub shower with more than five minutes of hot water to help her wash sweat, rain, and her nightmares off her body.

Maybe Kamilah didn’t stay until the morning (afternoon? she can’t tell anymore) because she wants to forget it happened.

Regardless of Kamilah’s thoughts on the matter, though, judging by the wide every-tooth-accounted-for grin Lily gives her best friend when the smell of fresh coffee coaxes her into the kitchen she wants to know everything.

“It’s too early for this,” Nadya protests; rubs her temples with her eyes closed and when she opens them there’s magically a mug of coffee within reach. Maybe the Gerard-fairy could get her that pony she wanted when she was ten…

“It’s never too early to get into the juicy details,” Lily props her chin on both hands, “you’re glowing, babe.”

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

“I am _not!”_

Lily throws her hands up with exasperation. “Ignorance must be so fucking blissful! I’d give my left nut to be able to bone my girlfriend right now!”

There’s a clatter by the sink and they both look to see Gerard fumble with a piece of cutlery and his favorite scrubbing sponge. He tries to play it off cool but Nadya knows better. “Let’s try and calm it down with the skanky talk, Lil’.”

“Not skanky if it’s how I feel.”

Gerard chuckles. “Oh don’t mind me, ladies. At my age a shock to the system keeps me on my toes.”

He wipes off his hands and gets about preparing for Kamilah’s arrival the usual way; a folded newspaper and espresso cup with saucer set immediately to Nadya’s left. And before she can ask — Kamilah herself walks in with the same purpose and intent she does everything else.

Including desperate rain-soaked sex.

Did she expect to be swept up in Kamilah’s strong arms and bent over the table in a passionate kiss; no. Did she hope for a little acknowledgment at the very least; well, certainly more than the big bucketful of _nothing _her way as Kamilah takes her usual seat, sips her usual coffee, and opens her usual evening edition.

Lily makes a face at her that is hidden by the Stocks. Nadya silently tries to admonish her but, well, Lily does what Lily wants whether she’s a vampire or a human.

Silence. Silence. Nadya tries to break it as best she can.

“So Kamilah, this is —”

“I’m well aware of who she is.” Kamilah flicks the paper in half and appraises Lily with cold nonchalance. “And what she is, is a liability.”

Lily huffs. “Just because I’m not in your Clans doesn’t mean —”

All Kamilah has to do is hold up a finger. There’s a part of Nadya that’s trying to find even the smallest thing to keep her optimistic and apparently that part is a horny little monster; since it makes her look at the finger and go pink in the cheeks.

Kamilah either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Her only concern is Lily.

“You are a prime example of the prosecution’s case against Adrian; by virtue of his blood you were Turned. Rather than go through the proper channels to instill you a premature spot in his Clan he was content to let you disappear and sweep the matter under the rug.”

“That’s not — that’s not what happened, not entirely! It isn’t the whole story.” Nadya raises her voice to try and get Kamilah to look at her.

It works; a brief flicker of dark hues that has her heart racing and no doubt the vampires in the room both catch it. But it’s not something she can control. It might not even be for Kamilah — she’s definitely angry enough.

“Kamilah, you know that’s not what happened.”

“Yes, I do,” she sips her coffee, “yet what should we say otherwise? Either we let that be the case made against him on this act alone or we reveal to the Council any knowledge we might have regarding the Clanless, their operations, and where they might be hiding. Which is worse?”

It’s a question she doesn’t know the answer to. Judging by the look Kamilah gives her — she doesn’t have any answers either.

“I can’t risk them, Nadi’.” mutters Lily.

She looks across the table; reaches out and takes Lily’s hand in hers. “I know — we’re not doing that. I’m not gonna sell out the Clanless.”

“Even if it leads to Adrian’s execution?” Kamilah says it only because it’s something they need to take into account; she knows that. But it’s the way she’s talking that keeps adding fuel to the fire inside her belly.

“And I won’t let that happen, either.”

“My point remains the same; having this girl there would only jeopardize Adrian’s already _thin _defense.”

_Already thin defense._ God, it makes her head spin around backwards.

“What is he being charged with anyway? Last I saw you guys everyone was on the same side.”

As Gerard comes around to pour more coffee she catches his expression; his normal ease replaced with stiffness and more lines than usual etched into his furrowed brow. It makes Nadya’s stomach upset.

She tries to backtrack. “Never mind, we can talk about it later, or…”

“No, you have a right to ask. And I would rather you know what you will be walking into” Kamilah sets her paper aside to give them her full attention. “You don’t know the whole story — everything that’s led up to this point. From small deals and micro-aggressions to spats both behind closed doors and within Council Chambers. I’m afraid this has been a long time coming, Nadya. And the events of the Ball were all that was needed for… shall we say _certain parties_ to enact plans that have merely been lying in wait.

“It’s no secret that Adrian hasn’t always seen eye-to-eye with the rest of the Council. You’ve met them. I think you can draw your own conclusions. The more Adrian has pushed for progress and integration into human society the more resistance he’s been met with — even from those we thought saw our way of things at the very least for their own gains.”

Nadya brings one leg up to her chest. “Why do I feel like you’re trying not to say Lester’s name?”

“Castellanos and Adrian have always had a tense partnership — only as strong as what they both got out of it. But that isn’t uncommon for our kind; especially for those who have lived as long as we.”

“So Lester stabbed him in the back.”

“Yes, and no,” Kamilah’s jaw sets; her teeth grinding together like slabs of stone, “They all did; the entire Council — save myself.”

“And we’re sure about that?”

Both Nadya and Kamilah look at Lily like she’s grown another head. Nadya quickly dissolves into panic; reaches out and grabs Kamilah’s upper arm even though she knows it’s about as effective as a blade of grass trying to stop a hurricane.

There’s no mistaking Kamilah’s tone — she is and always will be the calm before and the storm itself.

“I suggest you refrain from speaking again should you value the lower part of your skull, newborn.”

And Nadya wants to actually smack Lily upside the head for having the gall to snap back; “Well you keep saying the Council are the bad guys. Except you’re on it, too. You’re the one we should be rooting for? The Kingsley Shacklebolt of the Ministry working on the inside?”

“You _dare…”_

“Lily, stop!”

Nadya’s voice hurts her own ears; even the thought of raising it at Lily _especially _after their confrontation in the Shadow Den… she’s been walking on eggshells made of tissue paper around her best friend. And, really, she’s doing it to keep Lily safe in the end.

The muscles under Nadya’s grasp shift, though. She has a chance to keep this from getting very bloody very fast.

“Please, Lil’,” she continues, “I get why you’re thinking like that — I would too if I didn’t know better — but Kamilah and Adrian are more than just ‘on the Council’ together. They’ve been through everything and stayed at each other’s sides. Kamilah was there when Adrian was Turned — and—and they stayed together even when it meant betraying their Maker. She wouldn’t turn on him — ever. Just like you wouldn’t tun on me.”

It’s enough to satisfy Lily — or her version of satisfied in which she goes to dig in the cupboards for something to munch on and help her think.

But her victory is short-lived when she looks at Kamilah with relief and is met with a clouded anger. _Disbelief._

“W-What’s wrong?”

The vampire regards her carefully. How one would behave next to a wild tiger. Only out of the pair of them it’s not Nadya who is the dangerous one.

“I was not aware Adrian had told you so much of our shared history. Particularly that which involved…” she swallows the words on her tongue like bile, “our Maker.”

_He didn’t,_ she’s ready to say — an automatic response. But it made sense given Adrian’s reaction to the man’s portrait at the castle. _Gaius Turned Kamilah and Adrian…?_

_But how did she know that?_

She doesn’t know how; she simply does.

Yet something tells her Kamilah would, after being equally unsatisfied with such an answer, not be as content as Nadya to let it go. Not at all.

So she shrugs, mutters “Late nights at the office… he said not to tell you I knew,” and hopes even if her lie isn’t convincing enough that there’s more on Kamilah’s plate than pushing the issue.

Kamilah turns away curtly.

With luck like this she’s really gotta go buy a lottery ticket soon.

“During the Council and tribunal held against him I must remain impartial. As the eldest member I have the immediate authority regarding his case but, as with all things, it will come down to a vote no matter my ruling.”

“So no chance you could go all _Judge Judy_ on them, then, huh?” Lily asks around a mouthful of saltines. Kamilah’s look is answer enough.

“Kamilah,” Nadya touches her again, wary this time. Glad she doesn’t pull away or look ready to strike. “If you’re gonna be in charge of everything I’m going in there alone. And as much as I trust you… and Adrian, for that matter, I just…”

“No, you’re right to be cautious.” The woman’s lips quirk in the barest of smiles — but Nadya is too focused on the sudden warmth in her gaze. It feels like a spotlight under the moon. It feels like last night. “And Adrian will be in no position to help you, I’m afraid.”

“Then let Lily come. She risked enough coming up here anyway — it’s not fair to leave her hanging.”

“I dunno _mami,”_ Lily’s imitation Mari accent is somehow made better by a mouthful of snack, “I’m kinda digging this place —” she rolls her eyes at Kamilah’s glower, “—I’m kidding, jeez. Like I’d leave my girl hanging in a den full of Dracula wannabes.”

“I’ll forgive that insult only because of how little you know.”

“Insul—wait. No freak-fuckin’ way. Is he real? _Is Dracula real?!”_

While Lily copes with the realization of Dracula in her own unique way Nadya takes the moment of distraction to slide her hand down Kamilah’s sleeve — to ghost her fingertips over the back of her hand.

Kamilah looks back as if to question it but the look in Nadya’s eyes is enough.

She lowers her voice to a whisper. “How long did you, uh… I mean how…”

“How long did I stay with you last night?” Kamilah finishes for her and despite her flush Nadya manages a nod. “Long enough for you to go into a deep slumber. Then I returned to my room.”

“You could’ve stayed. It’s technically your room, too.”

Kamilah purses her lips. “No doubt you wish to discuss it; what happened.”

“Well, yeah,” she shrugs, “kinda.”

But the energy radiating off of her says it’s not a desire they share. It’s in the loose hold of the vampire’s fingers and the way she looks at Nadya without seeing her. _It hurts._

Makes Nadya pull her hand away, stuff it in her lap. “But I get it. Not a big deal.”

“I’d ask you to at least give me the courtesy of honesty.” Nadya exhales a shiver as she feels cool fingertips brush her hair back; tuck it behind her ear and keep her from hiding her face to Kamilah’s eyes. “As I… _might _like to give you the courtesy of a discussion — when all is right and Adrian is safe. Something we both should see as a priority, yes?”

_Oh._ She nods. “Y-Yeah.”

Then Kamilah’s standing and bringing Nadya up with her by the elbow. Enough to draw Lily’s attention away from the different types of tea Gerard’s hoarded over the years.

He went over them all with her once. She tries to pretend it doesn’t exist since there’s no rhyme or reason to his organizing.

“Too much time has been wasted already. The tribunal will begin at midnight — with or without our presence. I rather think we’d prefer to be there.”

This time when Nadya shivers it’s like someone’s just walked over her grave. Makes her wrap her arms around her middle.

“Do you really think my testimony will change anything? The Baron hates me, Vega’s threatened me, Lester… is _Lester._ And Priya doesn’t seem to like anything at all.”

Kamilah’s hand shifts, touches becoming a caress on her arm. “Better to try than to do nothing.”

“Right.”

Someone walks over her grave again. Nadya hopes it’s somewhere pretty.

* * *

“Does it help if I do this?”

“Lil’ I love and appreciate you but you’re as cold as the outside air right now. I think that’s actually making it worse.”

Lily backs off of her hug but takes Nadya’s hand instead. She really doesn’t deserve a friend like her but here she is, risking her afterlife — and so far the only way she’s thought up to repay her is buying the next five games Lily loves on pre-order the moment they’re available.

Ahead of them Kamilah calls back, “We’re almost there,” and hastens her pace.

Frankly three women walking around the dark and hidden paths of Central Park at night should be the beginning of the end but the only thing that makes her laugh right now is how much she pities the moron who messes with Lily and Kamilah thinking they’ll win.

They finally come to a halt in front of a statue; Nadya peers at the inscription at the base like it’s supposed to clear everything up but it does the exact opposite.

“Uh… Why are we paying Chris Columbus a visit?” Lily asks for her.

Kamilah trails her leather-gloved fingers around a dip in the base with a scornful huff. “I’ve been petitioning to have this atrocity removed since it was commissioned. Nearly had it five years ago — the young people of the world did good work in spreading the truth behind the pretty lies of historians and other members of the victorious parties. But this country has a hard-on for it’s white founders no matter how many corpses their legacy was built upon.”

“Amen, sister. Preach!” Lily pounds her fist into the air unabashedly.

“Still,” Kamilah continues, “if they refuse to tear him down then I shall use him to my advantage.”

There’s a _click _and the statue begins to slide aside of its own accord. Nadya and Lily look around wildly to make sure no one else sees but Kamilah remains unperturbed.

When the statue has gone as far askew as it can go there exists in its place a descending stone staircase — narrow near the surface but judging by the torches flicking soft orange light further down it empties out somewhere large.

“This is the single best _Tomb Raider_ shit I’ve seen in my whole life!” Lily squeals in delight — doesn’t wait for Kamilah’s invitation to hop and skip her way down the steps. Her voice echoes on the stone; “This is so cool!”

Well, at least someone is having a good time.

“Uh… secret tunnel, huh.” Meanwhile Nadya processes it in her own wild way. Tries not to jump when she feels Kamilah’s hand on her lower back nudge her forward.

“Did you think we met in some city hall chamber?”

Since she has a feeling this might be the last time she sees anything resembling mirth from Kamilah for some time Nadya, spurred by adrenaline and fear and other bad things warring with the optimism she’s practically forcing on herself, stands forward on her toes and kisses her.

At first she’d likely get the same effect from kissing Chris Columbus behind her. Then Kamilah yields — out of pity or passion she can’t tell, doesn’t want to know — and rests her hands on Nadya’s hips to kiss her back and guide her away.

Kamilah doesn’t say anything — doesn’t need to. The question is there in her eyes.

“Because,” Nadya answers in her softest voice, “I was running out of good things to keep me believing we can win this.”

Before her Kamilah pulls off her glove; cards her fingers through Nadya’s hair just like back at the penthouse. Only this time she allows herself to savor the touch with closed eyes intent on snapping a still of this moment for all the awful things to come.

“Should you find a way to share your optimism… I would not turn it away.”

Kamilah’s breath is warm but her lips are cool against Nadya’s forehead. She curls her fingers in the fur lining of her coat lapels and uses up all that good luck she’s had in the little things to wish with all her might that everything _was _okay; that Adrian was safe and sound and they were in the park because it was a nice date spot — rather than where they might descend into their literal deaths.

Apparently she’s not saved up that much good luck just yet. Since everything is the same when she opens her eyes to watch Kamilah stroke her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Come. _‘Once more unto the breach,’_ as they say.”

Kamilah doesn’t stop her from taking hold of her arm so she clings without care. Ducks when Kamilah tells her to watch her head and turns to see the base of Columbus slide back into place and plunge them into stifled darkness.

They catch up with Lily at the bottom of the steps. At first Nadya’s ready to make a joke about picking her jaw up off the dirt floor but that’s dashed from her mind the moment she catches a look herself.

Crumbled ruins in columns, archways, effigies with worn faces and broken limbs. Like a civilization once flourished underneath the streets filled with careless conversation and pigeons by the dozens.

Large fire pits — some made of twisted metal and others mere stone bowls — dot across the ground where footsteps have tamped down the earth with time. Nothing grows here from below but trickles down from the sun and sky above in long tendrils of ivy. If the moss is waging a war on those who once called this place home — the moss has definitely won.

“Final boss encounter…” Lily whispers in awe. Smacks Nadya’s arm gently and points forward. “And there’s even a bitchin’ throne!”

It was like she was doing everything she could not to see it. But once Lily draws it to her attention she can’t look at anything else.

The throne sits at the farthest end of the hall; small from this distance but imposing up close, on a dais of a stone slab with runes and glyphs carved along the ridges. It’s the only thing in the cavernous chamber that doesn’t appear to have suffered the wrath of time.

On either side sit the largest of the fire pits; flickering heat that Nadya can feel even from far back. Her eyes sweep over every golden, gleaming inch of the chair and foreboding settles deep inside her — branches out not unlike the ivy hanging from on high — from her gut to her limbs and so powerful she’s choking on it.

When she doesn’t get the reaction she wants Lily turns to face her. Grows rigid with concern when Nadya’s tears catch the firelight as they fall and drip down her chin.

“Nadi’? Nadya? Shit Nadya what’s wrong?”

Only when Lily grabs her by the shoulders and turns her bodily does the spell break. Eyes tear away from the throne and her knees buckle — without Lily there to catch her she’d fall.

Kamilah, already striding towards the end of the hall, turns back sharply.

“What’s the matter?” She’s back at their side in a beat. Looking Nadya over with concern bordering on anger. “What’s happened?”

“Nadya — hon — talk to us.” Lily cradles her head on her shoulder and Nadya wants to thank her for the gesture but she just can’t find the words.

Then Kamilah comes into blurry, teary view. Cups a hand along her jaw.

_“Please._ What is it?”

“The… th-throne,” she manages to gasp; both vampires spare it a glance like it _doesn’t _want to crush their very souls and she’s jealous of their ignorance. “I—I—it…”

She takes in a sharp breath and the words tumble from her unbidden.

“It’s mine. That throne is _mine.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter _is_ a bit short but I promise it all works out. Things are finally starting to get intense! Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you for reading!


	17. The Trial of Adrian Raines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Council accuses Adrian of orchestrating the Feral outbreak for selfish and nefarious purposes, a tribunal is held to decide his fate. As witnesses come forward to testify, Nadya learns who can and cannot be trusted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **note:** this chapter will include a cameo and reference to [_Katherine's Favor_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125906/chapters/48324487) in my drabble collection.
> 
> **chapter content warnings:** language, mild torture

_“What’s the matter?” She’s back at their side in a beat. Looking Nadya over with concern bordering on anger. “What’s happened?”_

_“Nadya — hon — talk to us.” Lily cradles her head on her shoulder and Nadya wants to thank her for the gesture but she just can’t find the words._

_Then Kamilah comes into blurry, teary view. Cups a hand along her jaw._

“Please. _What is it?”_

_“The… th-throne,” she manages to gasp; both vampires spare it a glance like it doesn’t want to crush their very souls and she’s jealous of their ignorance. “I—I—it…”_

_She takes in a sharp breath and the words tumble from her unbidden._

_“It’s mine. That throne is_ mine.”

Even saying it feels like a strange dream. Like knowing the answer to a question that hasn’t been asked — with no context.

Lily and Kamilah just stare for a moment. Torn, like Nadya herself, between what they know and their concern for her strange behavior.

Then an unreadable emotion comes over Kamilah as she brushes a bead of sweat from Nadya’s brow.

“Have you been here before?”

Nadya gives a silent, tight-lipped nod.

“When?”

“Yeah, seriously,” scoffs Lily, “when?”

Only she doesn’t know. Doesn’t really have an answer. Sure dreams are supposed to be based loosely on people’s lives, right? There are all those studies about the faces you don’t recognize in dreams actually being random passersby on the street or someone you saw at a grocery store once when you were eleven?

So yes. The painting of that awful man Gaius disturbed the ever-loving bejeezus out of her and she’s been having nightmares about his corpse-strewn floors ever since. But how does that explain that she knows if she turns her head a fraction to the right there will be a fist-sized crack in a crumbled pillar… caused by Kamilah herself?

Another fresh wave of tears are ready to fall but there Kamilah is to wipe them away with a handkerchief. There’s a war waging behind her eyes.

“This is not finished,” she says quietly, even wraps her hands around Nadya’s as she passes the cloth in offering, “but we must put it aside for Adrian’s sake. Do you have the strength to go forward?”

Lily presses their temples together. Holds her tight. Nadya’s been the unfortunate best friend to see her lying in a pool of her own blood but now Lily has the misfortune of being worried out of her mind.

“You don’t have to do this, Nadi’.”

“Yes,” she breathes; gains confidence with every word, “for Adrian — yes I do.”

They help her up but she has to push them off — wants to stand on her own two feet. With a sure nod towards Kamilah they venture into the heart of the cavern.

Six lesser chairs were added all at once — judging by the equal ruination on the stone. These aren’t thrones but a council of seats. Meant to prove no one is over the other. All equal.

_The ideal democracy…_ or so they’d hoped.

In the middle a medieval thing has been placed; like a seat, sure, but Nadya’s pretty sure normal seats don’t involve iron-wrought manacles on the arms and legs with strange runic symbols carved into the surface of the metal.

“They’re going to place him in that like an animal.” Nadya doesn’t ask. She knows these jerks well enough and it sickens her.

“Any of us would sit there if the occasion called for it.” Kamilah answers.

She gestures to a collection of chairs — actual folding chairs like something out of a high school band concert in the gymnasium — off to the side and departs from there. Goes and takes her place on one of the stone seats.

Nadya doesn’t miss that it’s one of the two seats closest to the abhorrent throne.

Lily and Nadya take their seats beside a man dressed like he just walked out of a historical monologue. Nadya tries to place if she saw him at the Ball but nothing about him looks familiar. His half-moon spectacles balance lightly on the edge of his nose as he continues to read the leather-bound book in hand.

Lily helps her do everything she can not to focus on the throne for as long as possible. Luckily it’s just enough to keep her going until other footsteps begin to sound and they turn to see the cavern entrance crowd with familiar faces.

Priya waltzes in first; looks like she just made her way off of a runway and knows it by the curl of disgust in her upper lip with each press of her stilettos into the packed dirt. She doesn’t even spare them a glance while she takes her council seat.

Behind her Valdas and Isseya walk in arm-in-arm. Mutter something between one another not only too quiet for her human ears to pick up but also — from what it sounds like — in another language altogether.

They take two of the folding chairs in the back row. This must be where the witnesses are herded off to.

With the throne at her front and the Trinity at her back Nadya’s losing places to ‘look elsewhere.’

“You’re right,” Valdas answers with his voice raised well enough for her to hear, “she _is _glowing.”

Before Nadya can say a word Lily turns to her defense. Arm slung over the back of her chair and a middle finger dangling lazily in obvious view.

“Something to say, new blood?” Valdas asks politely. Lily swings her finger upwards and blows a kiss at him with it.

“Hmm how about _‘suck me?’”_

“With pleasure.”

“Ugh.”

Vega arrives next; ever the figure of grace under pressure. Only there’s that same smirk when he looks at Nadya that he did on their first meeting and she does _not _like the way it makes her feel.

Behind him struts the Baron with a large guard flanking either side. Only he’s not two steps in when Kamilah’s voice echoes through every curved and carved wall.

“You know the laws, Cecil.”

The Baron — _Cecil,_ Nadya realizes, and tries not to laugh at his name — grunts. “Yeah well I ain’t the only ones breakin’ ‘em, am I? Ain’t that why we’re here?”

Vega interrupts Kamilah before she can argue — only he’s on her side?

“We are also here to show that we are better — that we follow our own rules. Kamilah is right.”

With what are probably threats under his breath the Baron jerks his head — sends his staff back up the steps. There’s a brief muffled commotion and a _“watch it, goons!”_ that has Nadya turning all the way in her seat.

_She knows that voice._

Lo and behold Katherine jaunts down the final steps, with Lester glowering at her back just behind.

“Next time,” calls the vampire to his cohorts as he practically pushes the Nighthunter aside to get to his seat, “she’s under someone else’s watch!”

Vega raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t need to put her up personally, Castellanos.”

“Oh he didn’t — no need to guide me, I’ll find the reject table all on my own — but he wasn’t really happy at the room service bill I racked up.”

Either she knows what she’s doing when she takes up the space just behind Nadya — blocking the immediate contact between her and the Trinity — or she’s just a buffer by nature at this point. She doesn’t look at all surprised at the spontaneous reunion.

“You doing okay?” Katherine asks; actually puts a hand on the back of Nadya’s chair and fixes her with a look of genuine concern. For a moment the facade is down.

Nadya shakes her head mutely. “Yeah — no surprise. Can’t say I’ve ever done something like this either. Just tell your truth and everything will be fine. We know Adrian’s not guilty.”

Something about her bluntness actually helps get Nadya in the right headspace. “I’ll introduce you guys later…” she mutters to Lily.

Five of the six Council seats are occupied — it’s time for things to begin.

And then a strange thought crosses her mind — has Nadya looking around so quick this way and that that her head goes for a not-so-fun spin too.

“Where’s Nicole?”

“Who?” Lily asks.

Behind them Katherine’s caught on as well. “Good question… Why am I not sure I’ll like the answer?”

Nadya flashes her a worried look — doesn’t have time to try and get Kamilah’s attention over it because Kamilah herself is standing; speaking.

“As the eldest member of the Council it is incumbent upon me to preside over these proceedings. I trust I do not need to stress the importance of not only the allegations placed upon the accused but also the duties of the Council to ensure justice is carried out swiftly and fairly.”

Around her the vampires mutter their assent.

“Too many of our own have died — suffered at the hands of this blight of Ferals. I trust I’m not alone when I say what happens here tonight will not only be seen as a trial but as a call to action.” She looks each Council member in the eye — Vega and Priya stare back while Lester and the Baron keep their gazes carefully averted.

“We have come together to protect this city once before. Let us put aside our individual differences and do so again.”

Kamilah takes her seat; gestures with a wave of her hand. “Bring him in.”

Nadya’s heart suddenly starts pounding in her chest, wanting to escape — to flee out of her ribs and back up to Central Park under the stars.

Everyone in the cavern turns as Adrian, bound in chains with similar runes at his wrists and ankles, is shuffled in by unfamiliar suited vampires.

He’s still in the same uniform from the Ball — fabric ripped and frayed in some places and dark spots reflecting dried blood in others. His hair is askew but for the most part he looks… _okay?_

Then she remembers he can heal. And it makes her think of all the cuts and wounds and bruises that must have healed even between wherever he was being held and here. And it makes her want to yell.

Their eyes meet as he passes. Even with the rings under his eyes and his sluggish heave-ho of bound feet he manages to smile.

_I’m glad you got out safe,_ it says, _I’m glad you’re okay._

_But you aren’t._

_Don’t worry about me. You can’t save me._

_No, but I can try._

The guards remove his manacles one at a time — bind him into the chair instead. It doesn’t look like such flimsy wood could hold him but then Katherine leans forward and whispers to them in a dark tone.

“I can’t believe those bastards are using a Corwin Chair on him.”

Lily looks the chair up and down. _“‘Corwin’_ like… Jonathan Corwin? Like the Salem judge?”

Katherine doesn’t hide her surprise. “You’re not a Hunter, are you?”

“No, I just have a pretty eclectic collection of random knowledge.”

“Catch me up, please?” Nadya asks the both of them. Lily defers to the other.

“A Corwin Chair was, yeah, used by Jonathan Corwin during the Salem Witch Trials. Corwin wasn’t a witch himself but he did have one kept under his thumb. Forced her to bewitch an old medieval chair so that no being trapped in all four locks could escape.”

“Was he a… you know — vampire?”

Katherine shrugs. It’s the extent of her knowledge. She leans back and gestures for them to pay attention to the trial having already begun — each Council member looking down upon Adrian with a different expression. Nadya can’t imagine the pain Kamilah must be in.

“You have exercised your right for witnesses to testify on your behalf. Do you see them all here, Adrian?”

Adrian looks back to where the witnesses are gathered. Something ticks in his brow.

“No, I do not.”

Kamilah nods. “Was due diligence performed by the accuser to ensure his witnesses’ arrival?”

There’s absolutely no surprise left in her as Nadya watches Vega cross one leg over the other.

“Of course.”

“And as for the missing witnesses?”

“Their summons were met by refusal.”

Behind her Katherine mutters something — takes out an old flip-phone and holds it between her legs while awkwardly punching at the numbers.

“We can proceed without them, I should think.” Vega adds. Priya and Lester nod in agreement.

Outnumbered and overruled, Kamilah has no choice.

“Then the trial will begin. Will the prosecution please lay out the crimes to the tribunal?”

Nobody’s surprised when Vega stands; especially not Adrian. The senator adjusts the knot of his tie like this isn’t a life or death situation for Adrian — rather just another meeting or speech where he gets his own spotlight.

“So that’s him,” Lily asks quietly, “that’s the asscanoe who broke into our place?”

Nadya nods — isn’t one to curse normally but _you know what,_ Vega deserves it. “That’s the asscanoe.”

Vega spares a gloating and victorious smile to Adrian before addressing the rest of the Council.

“I’m sure I speak not only for myself but every Clan Leader here — yes even our dear boy Raines — when I say that this Feral problem has gone on for far too long.” Even Kamilah agrees with a curt nod. It would be foolish for her not to. Vega continues, “Almost a year ago we all gathered here as we do now and addressed the barest whispers of such activity. When my fellow Council member leapt to the call of action and volunteered to contain the matter personally, I — like you all — merely took it as Raines enacting his civic duty.

“And perhaps that is what he wished for us to believe. He counted on our belief that we all shared a mutual dedication to what we’ve built here in New York. After all… the decades have been prosperous to us all, haven’t they?”

Again the Council agrees. Adrian remains silent in his torture chair — though his restraint is definitely faltering with every word that crawls out of Vega’s mouth.

Lester huffs. “Get on with it, Adam. The longer you gripe the likelihood of my voting for you declines.”

Vega’s brow ticks but he’s otherwise unperturbed.

“Very well. I have sufficient reason to believe that our own Adrian Raines has not only worked from within to dismantle our democratic authority, but also is the mastermind behind the innumerable Feral attacks within our grounds and without — and intended to use the Awakening Ball to further his agenda and eliminate those on the Council once and for all.”

Whatever pulls the trigger does so violently — brings Adrian to the farthest edge of the chair he can reach with his teeth grit and fangs bared. The runes glow a pale light and the smell of something burning fills the cavern. Nadya has to turn away to avoid coming to the conclusion of what exactly it is.

“How dare you!” Adrian shouts; realizes when he can’t wrestle his way out of his bindings the next best thing is to hurl his rage through words. “You know every word of that is a lie!”

“Is it, _boy?”_ Vega sneers the word; uses it as a weapon to send Adrian lower than he already is. “Or does the apple not fall as far from the tree as he would like us to think?”

“What the hell does that mean?! Why bring him into this?!”

Vega’s accusatory finger jabs down at Adrian in condemnation.

“I suspected your lust for power the moment you demanded he be entombed rather than sent to meet the sun! See it in his eyes, my fellow Council, my fellow tribunal?! A madness brought to the surface, shared by soldier and king! There lies the true legacy of Gaius Augustine!”

His words howl like the wind through the cavern. Everyone gathered holds their breath — the very mention of his name makes Nadya queasy in her seat.

Kamilah slowly leans forward in her seat. Her expression sits grim and dark. “To what end are you accusing Adrian of orchestrating… all of this?”

“To the very same end as Augustine himself. He’s no longer content with democracy and instead seeks to rule over us, as Gaius did! He walks in the footsteps of our Maker and just as we did then we must take action now; we must find him guilty!”

“That is _enough!”_

Kamilah now stands; taller than Vega not in height but in stature. Despite the way he looks down at her the years act like a gaping chasm between them with Kamilah on the higher ledge. “Your call to action means nothing. This is merely the charge you level against him on behalf of the Council. And no decision will be made until all testimony is heard and weighed. Do I make myself clear?”

But whether or not the words stand they’ve done their damage — Vega knows that. Anyone can see it in the glint of his eyes when he resumes his seat; defers to Kamilah with an inclining nod of his head.

His words are out there in the world and they’re so utterly terrible that Adrian actually looks afraid to have heard them. To know they’re about him. From what little Nadya knows — _isn’t supposed to know, is dreaming of, but dreams can’t be real, they can’t be_ — he has every right to be afraid.

Kamilah gestures to where the witnesses sit. “Scholar Jameson, will you join us?”

The bespectacled man beside Lily closes his book — though judging by the fact that he’s on the same page as when they arrived he’s been far too absorbed in the trial to finish his chapter — and stands. Adjusts his frock coat and walks with an otherworldly grace towards the Council’s seats.

He even offers Adrian a cordial smile. Then bows to the rest.

“As always I am pleased to be of service.”

Priya snorts degradingly. “I can’t believe he’s still around. Figured he would have joined his precious collection by now.”

“On the contrary Miss Lacroix,” and the man named Jameson fixes Priya with a stare that makes her shift in her seat, “I find every fulfillment in taking care of the _Musea Sanguis,_ but have no interest in becoming one of its many displays.”

“On that note…” With another gesture from Kamilah, Jameson nods and appears to situate himself. Ties his salt-and-pepper hair up with a crimson ribbon and tucks up the cuffs of his frilly sleeves as if he’s preparing to do some heavy lifting.

“Bring the first witness forth at your whim, Council.”

“On behalf of the accused?”

Adrian blinks in surprise. But looks grateful that Kamilah gives him first choice.

“On my behalf I would call Nadya Al Jamil to testify.”

Nadya startles — has to do everything (with Katherine and Lily’s help) to not make it noticeable. The Trinity members whisper something behind her.

“M-Me?” she asks. Suddenly all eyes are on her. A boiling cauldron of hatred, disgust, a plea for help.

“Either get up here or stop wasting everyone’s time!” barks the Baron.

“You got this,” Katherine whispers behind her; nudges her up standing. Walking’s a bit easier from there but boy does she not like every step she takes towards that throne.

Nadya comes to stand where Scholar Jameson gestures beside him; between Adrian and the Council. Like a buffer — or a shield. She wishes she really could be.

She looks around hastily. “Uhm… what do I…?”

Kamilah holds up a hand to silence her. “I understand this is your first trial — but my explanation will be brief. You will be expected to answer every question posed to you. You have no right to decline — such right was forfeit the moment you agreed to be a witness. Jameson, here, will probe your mind each time to ensure the truth is heard and spoken. Do you understand this?”

_He’s gonna what her mind?_ Nadya leans away from the kindly man — suddenly looking not so kindly even with his smile — and fumbles before she can answer.

“Y-Yes. Yes I understand.”

With nimble fingers Jameson positions her at his whim. It’s hard enough to turn her back to Adrian when talking about him but when she feels the cold press of Jameson’s fingertips to her temples she barely contains her shudder.

“Begin with your name.” Kamilah directs.

“Nadya Al Jamil.”

“And your relationship with Adrian Raines; the accused?”

“I’m his assistant-slash-secretary…” There’s a hum of discontent behind her and Nadya quickly adds, “and I’d like to think I’m his friend. He’s mine at the very least.”

“When did you come into Adrian Raines’ employ?”

She answers basic questions — it reminds her of a lie detector test she did for a laugh in college; establishing a base line of questions and answers. What she did for Adrian, if she ever came into contact with vampires before Adrian, how exactly that whole thing came about.

“I’d be dead if Adrian hadn’t been there to save me.”

Vega holds up a finger. “Miss Al Jamil, would you have been in the same danger had you _not _become affiliated with Adrian?”

“Well… probably. It’s not like I was attacked at work or anything. In fact I’d be dead if I didn’t know him, since he wouldn’t have been looking out for me.”

“A statement with some possibility of truth, yes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Now, dear, I’m not blaming you. You’re only _human _— and those mortal senses only provide you with so much protection from the predators of the world. But Council I propose this thought —” his finger angles down to point at them below, “— that it seems _awfully convenient_ for Raines to have been there at the exact moment to change Miss Al Jamil’s fate. Either he was following her and her _alleged _attacker for some time — thereby putting her in grave peril — or perhaps there was no Feral at all, and only Raines himself.”

“Bullshit!” hisses Adrian behind her. Makes her turn to see him strain in his bonds that singe his skin yet again.

“Adrian, stop.”

“I won’t let him slander me like this!”

“Neither will I!” And even Vega looks surprised when Nadya rounds on him. “Because that’s a lie! I may not remember the attack but I’m pretty sure _you _weren’t there either. You’re guessing just like I am.”

It’s Lester who speaks next, to Nadya’s shock. He rubs his chin and shrugs.

“She’s not wrong. Let’s try to keep our imagination to a minimum, ey Adam?”

When Vega doesn’t respond, Kamilah gives a reassuring nod (or, well, she takes it as reassuring, because she needs it right now) Nadya’s way.

“Thank you Nadya. You may sit.”

“B-But what about the Ball, and —”

“Our inquiries are on behalf of an established timeline. Thank you for beginning it for us. You may sit.”

She takes the second time not as a suggestion but an order. Awkwardly returns to her chair and doesn’t stop Lily from throwing her arm around her shoulder and pulling her in tight.

“So, did you feel the psychic guy?” Lily whispers.

Nadya looks back to Jameson; busy wiping his hands with a pocket square. “A… bit, I think? It felt more like I was doubting myself… and then suddenly I knew my own answer.”

Lily makes a heebee-jeebies gesture and it manages to give Nadya the smallest smile.

Katherine goes up next. Unlike Nadya her questions are less personal and more clinical; professional. She explains how and when Adrian first contacted her for her services and about meeting him for the first time at the Gallery — where Kamilah was present.

Lester purses his lips. “I was against bringing your kind in.”

“We are aware.” Kamilah replies with a roll of her eyes.

Priya, who’s looked absolutely bored since she walked in, snaps her sharp nails for attention.

“Just how much did he pay you to turn around and butt-fuck everything you weirdos supposedly believe in?” She shrugs at the looks she gets. “What — I can’t be the only one thinking it. When have you _ever _heard of a Nighthunter doing anything besides being a pain in the twat?”

“Hey, no, fair point.” Katherine agrees; her flippancy makes Nadya worry her lip while she waits for the answer.

“Answer the question, please.”

She shifts under Jameson’s touch. “Adrian isn’t the only vampire I’ve done business for. Not like I wanted word to get out on that kind of thing, you know. But he wanted to do real good I think. He was up front about everything and you don’t get that a lot in my line of work.”

“To your knowledge are you the only Nighthunter under Raines’ employ?”

“No; when things got sticky I called in… well let’s call him a friend I guess. But he’s someone you want at your back.”

“His name?”

“Nik Ryder.”

Kamilah looks through her to Adrian. “Was this man asked to testify?”

“No,” Adrian replies, “I didn’t meet him for very long and didn’t think he would have anything to say towards my character.”

She’s satisfied by the answer. “Thank you for your honesty. Before the witness steps down is there anything she wishes to say freely?”

Katherine shrugs off the looming presence behind her — turns on her heel to look Adrian up and down. 

Nadya briefly recognizes the softness in her eyes — that same kind of sympathy she sent Nadya’s way for seeing an uncultured girl struggling to be taken seriously at an art gallery. It felt like years ago now.

“Yeah I guess,” she speaks loud enough for everyone to hear but at Adrian directly, “I think Raines is one of the good ones. I’ve seen evil — real, _pure _evil. The kind without purpose and only driven by instinct — and also the kind you think he is; the bastards that play the long con. And he’s neither.”

The Council says nothing for or against her words so Katherine resumes her seat with the rest. The look she and Nadya trade is full of mutual thanks. So far both of them have done what she considers to be well.

So why can’t Nadya shake the feeling that their impassioned speeches are nothing more than dramatic flair?

“On my behalf I call Cadence Smith to testify.”

For all the good it does Adrian might as well have said nothing. She and Lily trade confused shrugs and behind them the Trinity continue to look bored with all of it. Katherine’s furrowed brow catches her eye but before she can ask the woman shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Looks back down at her phone where the screen is dimmed to near black and huffs.

“As the witness seems not to have deigned us with his presence…” Vega gives a flippant gesture Kamilah’s way. She sighs.

“In his absence, your witness has forfeited his right to testify.”

“Wait, please,” there’s actual worry in the way Adrian pleads; looks to each of his fellow Council members imploringly, “he’s not just a witness — he’s an alibi.”

“An alibi for what?” Innuendo drips off of Priya’s tongue.

“For… I… for several things.”

Adrian’s sudden hesitancy is met with a predatory look from Vega.

“For your undisclosed time out of state, yes? I remember your absence from that meeting quite acutely.”

“No shocker there,” Nadya mutters under her breath, “that’s when he broke into the apartment.”

And Adrian had returned, albeit a day later than he had originally said. What was it that he had told Kamilah in the kitchen…? Something about a favor — something she never learned the truth of.

“I’m sorry Adrian, but if the witness isn’t here…”

He hangs his head. Knows Kamilah is only doing her job by presiding over his trial but Nadya can tell it’s putting a strain on them both.

“I know. Still — Katherine was there, she can —”

“You know the rules, boy!” snaps the Baron, “a character witness _or _an alibi—the bitch can’t be both.”

Katherine seethes. “Who are you callin’ a bitch?!”

Before the Nighthunter can stand Kamilah diffuses the situation with a raised hand. “I’m sure Adrian is aware, and that his outburst was a mistake.

“And in the interest of fairness…” she turns to Vega, “the prosecution may bring forward their first witness. Adam?”

His words make Nadya’s blood run cold.

“On my behalf, the prosecution asks Nicole Anderson to testify.”

* * *

She knows nothing, not even her sudden swelling rage and desire to punch something — _someone, a very specific someone_ — in the face, can compare to how Adrian must be feeling. Evil cursed witch trial chair be damned she wants to run out into the middle of the cavern and embrace him; protect him from everything and everyone set out to harm him.

Because apparently there are more people on that end of the spectrum than anyone knew.

Nicole emerges from a shadowy section off to the opposite side of the ruins. Still perfect; still not even a hair out of place. Her heels thud awkwardly on the dirt rather than the usual tile of the Raines Corp. floors. But she doesn’t break stride.

Behind her Nadya actually _hears _Katherine’s jaw lock in place. Lily looks between them and Nicole and can’t focus on which reaction is more important.

“All right, I’ll bite — pun not intended — who’s Stockbroker Elsa?”

Nadya swallows down all of the worst and most vile curse words she knows to keep them from spilling out. It takes some effort.

“She’s the VP of the company. Adrian’s ally — his friend. Or so I thought.”

So Adrian thought, too, because when Nicole comes to stand with her back turned to him he reopens his burning wounds with a new kind of fervor.

“Nicole…” hissed through gritted teeth, _“what are you doing?”_

She barely looks at him in profile. Doesn’t get the chance when Jameson steps up behind her to do his duty.

“I’m sorry Adrian,” _which Nadya calls bullshit,_ “but I’m doing what’s right.”

Kamilah recovers from the shock only because she has to. But the damage is done; whether together or separate in plan Vega and Nicole have shaken the Council down and taken the trial with it.

“Begin with your name and relationship to Adrian Raines; the accused.”

“My name is Nicole Anderson. I work as Vice President and CFO of Raines Corporation.” Nicole answers calm and cool; better fit for a business meeting than a life and death trial.

“When and how did you come into the employ of the accused?”

“Ten years ago I was hired to spearhead the Raines Corp. clean energy think-tank. I’m under the impression the accused saw my work and believed my talent was wasted anywhere but within the highest levels of the company.”

_The accused._ It makes her want to be sick — watching Nicole refuse to say his name.

Kamilah notices it too.

“And you, Miss Anderson, are here of your own volition to testify against your employer?”

“I am.”

“You do this without coercion; without any threats made against you?”

“I do.”

_“Obviously,_ Kamilah,” Vega drawls, “so I think we shall skip such redundancy.”

There’s a hard silence before Kamilah continues.

“Very well. You may begin.”

Nicole curtly nods. “Thank you. As I said I’ve been working under the accused for ten years now. I’ve seen every inch of his company, both inside and out. I know of his numerous personal projects — those pursued with the Council’s permission and those pursued without your knowledge.”

“And what projects might these be?” Vega asks — the lilt in his voice feels like a black mold.

“For the last decade the accused has hired biologists, geneticists, and various chemical engineers at an undisclosed Black Site in Albany.”

“Nicole — don’t —” Adrian warns behind her, but she continues.

“The most recent of his projects has involved the capture of Feral vampires — beginning around a quarter of a year before the Council declared it an _‘infestation.’_ I have both firsthand knowledge and physical evidence that shows the accused was allowing his scientists to perform experiments on captured Feral subjects.”

“To what ends?” Lester asks hastily.

“Well it is my belief that the accused intended to find a cure or explanation for whatever fails the transformation process — for what Turns a human into a Feral rather than a vampire. But while the intent may have been a noble one… I believe it to have caused more casualties than would have occurred had the accused not pursued it.”

Nicole has the whole cavern entranced. Even Nadya has to shift back — catching herself leaning forward in her chair.

The Baron puffs his cigar. “Explain.”

“Of course; had the accused not purposefully kept Feral specimens alive and placed vulnerable humans in harms way there may not have been an infestation at all. I’ve provided Senator Vega with classified documents detailing the results of every test performed; needless to say they were all failures and many resulted in workplace deaths — which the accused passed along to me to cover up.

“I’m not proud of what I did for him. I think eventually my conscience got the better of me.” Nicole’s throat catches on her words. “After dozens of death certificates, false news stories… I reached my breaking point when three subjects escaped from the Site. One of which could very well have been the same creature that attacked Miss Al Jamil.”

“That’s a lie!” proclaims Adrian. But Jameson, fingers still on her temples, shakes his head.

“She tells the truth.”

“Jameson?!”

Vega nods. “Indeed — I’ve seen the cover-up paperwork regarding the incident with my own eyes.”

Adrian looks around; a bead of sweat drips down his brow. “That — that isn’t possible! It never happened and I _certainly _didn’t ask her to cover it up — there was nothing _to _cover up!”

The Council looks at Kamilah expectantly; waiting for her to silence the accused. He’s not one of them anymore — the longer this goes on the more apparent that becomes.

And Nadya can’t do anything but sit and watch.

“Have you any evidence to your claims? Anything that can disprove the allegations brought forward by the accuser and their witness… Anything, Adrian.” Kamilah insists.

“Don’t forget your place, Kamilah…” Lester warns half-heartedly. He, too, is losing every last ounce of faith he might have retained.

“You would do well not to forget yours.”

“You know I mean well.”

Kamilah doesn’t dignify it with a response. Stares down at Adrian firmly and there is even a hint of a silent plea in her eyes.

Adrian’s racing mind comes full-stop. He slumps back in his chair. Yields to the magical bonds.

“No, I don’t. Nothing the Council could find substantial.”

“Thank you for your honesty.” The Senator looks down on Adrian as though from the top of the Empire State Building. Certainly Nadya feels that small.

“Is the witness attempting to claim this escape led to the events of the Awakening Ball?”

Nicole’s lips ease into a grin before she can remember herself — she quickly schools her features and gives a grim nod.

“I am.”

“This dreadful _‘oversight,’”_ Vega _actually _uses air quotes — makes Lily gag mutely, “I am _convinced _was no mistake at all; but rather an elaborate murder attempt on the accused’s behalf.”

Kamilah deadpans. “Even if he too was at risk.”

“You remember the madness that claimed Gaius’ mind at the end, Kamilah. Better than anyone I would venture. It fits closely — wouldn’t you say?”

She doesn’t have an answer. _She doesn’t have an answer._

“Now that you mention it…” Priya taps a pointed acrylic against her stone armrest, “I don’t remember seeing Raines after midnight during _La Soirée.”_

Before anyone can agree with her Adrian jerks forward again — his last bit of hope pushed outward in a rush of adrenaline.

“I have an alibi! Here — witnesses! I call them forward!”

Lester looks down at him in frustration. “Patience, Raines…”

“I can!” He looks between each Council member — focuses on Kamilah. “Let me call them forward. Please, Kamilah. _Please.”_

Kamilah inhales. “I will allo —”

But the sudden trot of hasty footsteps on stone fills the chamber. Draws everyone’s attention — from the Council to every witness — to the back of the cavern.

Katherine exhales all the way down deep from her lungs. _“Finally;_ it’s about time he got here.”

“Please tell me we’re about to get _deus ex machina-ed_ all up in this bitch.”

The Nighthunter gives Lily with a look of real hope. “I fuckin’ hope so.”

* * *

It would be nice if a magical army would appear at the mouth of the steps — agents of some Vampire-on-High who had ultimate authority, who were there to put this unjust trial to rest.

Nadya knows exactly what she would do: she’d have that awful torture chair burned in the marble fire pit at the Ahmanet Financial rooftop pool, would roast marshmallows crispy black and melty and curl up in Kamilah’s arms and give the woman what’s likely to be her first s’more ever. Adrian would be across from them safe and sound. Lily and Mari would be there, too. Even Jax — since she’s giving fairy tale thoughts a whirl.

Everything would be okay.

But everything isn’t okay. Very _not okay_ — not in the slightest. Instead of a surprise army there’s just a lone figure that has to duck through the stone archway to avoid hitting his forehead as he enters.

So she follows Kathy’s lead and puts whatever little dirt-flecks of hope are left inside all into one pot.

Even if the pot looks sorta-kinda _immensely _nerdy.

“And of course I’m late, of course,” Nadya only catches the newcomer’s words because he passes them on his way forward — he seems more fixated on dusting himself off and looking presentable than doing whatever saving grace-thing he’s meant to do, “because this city is a bloody nightmare — I’ve solved ancient riddles easier than finding a street — oh, Katherine, there you are. Am I too late?”

He stops right in front of them — offers Kathy a flustered half-smile obscured by a thick curtain of wild hair. He speaks with an accent Nadya can’t quite place and hasty words of apology.

“On second thought, yell at me later. Where do I go to say my piece?”

But a loud and phlegm-coated cough doesn’t give him a chance. Draws everyone back up to the Council seats where the Baron’s red face is like a beacon.

“How dare you enter this space! Someone stake this ratty bastard!”

“Wait, no! Don’t!”

“What he said!”

Adrian and the tall man lock eyes. Despite the sag in Adrian’s shoulders he still manages to look irritated. The little bit of emotion helps with Nadya’s hope.

“He’s here to testify on my behalf.” Adrian exhales.

Nicole practically shoves Jameson away in a temporary slip of her role. Her scowl is plain as day. “Council law is clear — whoever you are, you can’t just storm in and demand to be heard!”

“I believe we are capable of speaking for ourselves, Miss Anderson.”

Nicole rounds on Kamilah — bites her tongue at the last second. Finally the two thousand year old vampiress allows a shred of victory to show through her teeth. “Outburst aside, however… she speaks the truth. Have this intruder escorted out.”

“By any. means. necessary.” Vega adds through gritted teeth.

Any doubts Nadya might have had about what the stranger was are gone in a literal blur — nearly gives herself whiplash following his rapid movement away from the approaching guards. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “A little late I might be — but an intruder I am not! I was sent a summons!” 

From the inside of his jacket he procures a folded paper; one Jameson takes at Kamilah’s silent behest. He unfolds the top, scans it briefly, and nods to the Council.

“He tells true. He is the alibi witness Cadence Smith.”

Cadence pushes up his glasses — _again, she can’t not wonder, do vampires really need them?_ — and offers an awkward bow to the Council; tries to give them all the same one at once by turning on his heel but swings a little too wide.

“His legitimacy aside,” argues the Senator, “it is the witness who is to speak on the Council’s command — not the Council who waits for the witness.”

“Here here!” Lester agrees; and while Priya doesn’t say it the look in her eyes says the same.

Kamilah shifts in her seat; crushed between a rock and a hard place. “In the spirit of impartiality I… am inclined to agree.”

Adrian’s face falls. Cadence meets every Council member’s expression with a hard stare.

“I hardly think that’s fair. Not only did you lot spring this on me at dawn—_in Louisiana no less_—but it’s not as if I was escorted to your meeting site! Were it not for the fact that I happen to be well-versed at tying together historical events of our society I likely would have never found the place at all Now how is that _my _fault?”

It isn’t just Nadya’s hand that suddenly shoots up but her whole body. Standing on the tips of her toes until it hurts like she’ll reach the ceiling of the cavern if she just believes in herself.

“Yes, Nadya?”

Because Kamilah humors her everyone focuses back on the poor little human. Her heart races in her stomach — everyone in the chamber must know it.

“Every witness has to be in a Council member’s custody a day _before _the trial, right?” She whirls around with open arms — looks to Isseya and Valdas at the back row and doesn’t even care that she has to snap and wave her hands to get their combined attention. “That’s what you told me.”

Like she never spoke Isseya goes back to looking over Nadya’s shoulder. Ruby eyes glistening in the torchlight — fixated on Cadence since his arrival.

Valdas, too, looks between them before somehow realizing everyone is waiting for their word. But there’s no time to play investigator on their erratic behavior. The Trinity were an erratic duo.

“I — yes. As was dictated to me by Castellanos when we were presented with… with our summons.”

“A-_ha!”_ Nadya regrets spinning again but forces down her nausea for Adrian’s sake; points a finger at Cadence. “So why wasn’t he?”

“Actually yes, why wasn’t I,” after a beat, “why wasn’t I _what,_ exactly?”

“In a Council member’s custody.”

“Oh — yes!” Louder this time and with his arms folded over his chest. “A guide would have been nice.”

_“So_ since he was only late because the rules weren’t followed he should be allowed to speak. He showed up, didn’t he?”

Lily elbows her knee in support — or what she hopes is support because it just ends up hurting; making her sit back down while trying to collect herself like that was her plan all along.

Across the room Adrian mouths _‘thank you’_ with wet eyes.

And the look of pride Kamilah’s directing her way — that’s totally just icing on the cake.

“Since one sleight will cancel out the other I’m inclined to allow it.” _Go on, challenge me. I dare you._ That’s the look she throws to Vega beside her. If he had anything to rebuke her ruling he’d surely offer it — and doesn’t his silence just speak volumes.

Nicole is escorted back to whatever lurks on the other side of the cavern and Cadence steps up to take her place in front of the Council. _Just as well,_ thinks Nadya, because the moment she gets within range she’s going to commit a horrible act of violence against her _former _supervisor.

He’s the first vampire to speak so Nadya is taken aback when Jameson resumes his duties as living lie detector — watches him reach up through the discomfort of Cadence’s height to ensure he tells the truth.

“Begin with your name.”

“Cadence Smith.”

Behind him Jameson lets out a cry — jerks backwards and cradles his hands like a wounded beast.

“Scholar? What happened?” Vega leans forward immediately — ready to take any opportunity to strike.

Though he recovers quick enough, Jameson shakes his head repeatedly. “A lie.”

“A man who lies about his own name, yet is expected to tell the truth when the evidence damns Raines enough already?”

“I have an explanation,” Cadence protests. Vega’s nonchalance makes him clench his fists.

“Then this ought to be amusing at the very least.”

Cadence mumbles something Nadya can’t quite catch; seems genuinely concerned about the state of the Scholar much to the surprise of the man himself.

“Will this harm you further?”

Jameson schools his features. “I think not.”

“Then let’s try again.”

When Jameson resumes his stance it’s with obvious caution. Cadence, however, carries on like nothing happened.

“The name I have isn’t my own — which I can tie to my purpose here. I suffer from post-traumatic amnesia and have dedicated my life to the search for my real identity. Something Mister Raines — er, Adrian — was helping me with.”

There’s silence — takes Nadya a moment to realize everyone is waiting for Jameson.

The vampire looks like he’s just barely forcing himself through something uncomfortable. A bead of sweat drips off of his nose.

“He’s truthful.”

Only then does Kamilah continue. “When did you enlist the help of the accused?”

“Early last month.”

“And what services has he provided for you?”

“Oh — well, nothing yet. You see, something came up and I had to pause my search. Katherine — her, over there — she can vouch for me.”

“We’ll need something more concrete than…” Kamilah’s voice dies out — ends like she’s on the verge of a question.

At first it looks like she’s staring at Nadya. But she turns to see Valdas standing — expression sculpted into cool disinterest. This close, though, it’s hard _not _to notice how he struggles to wear the same mask she thought was permanently welded to his face.

Kamilah recovers herself — can’t really do much to continue what with everyone looking their way now.

“Something you wish to say, Valdas?”

“A question for the alibi witness.” He doesn’t wait for permission.

“When did you lose them?”

After several wild blinks and no interruption from the Council, Cadence comes to the conclusion he _has _to answer; does so with hunched shoulders and his hands in his pockets.

“My memories, you mean? I can’t rightfully say. I only remember waking up in New Orleans. Everything before is a blank.”

“Be specific.”

“I — I’m sorry?”

_“When,_ in specifics.”

Nadya looks to Katherine but judging by the pensive cloud of her eyes there aren’t any to give. Doesn’t make her able to shake the feeling that these questions don’t really have anything to do with Adrian’s trial — and _that _makes her want to interrupt… but that one dumb brain cell called _‘common sense’_ bites Nadya’s tongue for her.

“Well — I was shipped to the States from Europe just before the end of the Great War. But, erm, how exactly does this pertain to my testimony?” He looks between Valdas — who has gone pale — and the Council for answers. “Mister Raines wasn’t there.”

“It doesn’t, so save it.” Lester waves a hand and Valdas actually sits. A sure sign of the end of the world or something equally bad-news. “This is already taking up too much of my damn night.”

Priya clicks her tongue. “I can’t believe I’m _actually _agreeing with you…”

Nadya watches with growing curiosity as Cadence — silent, maybe contemplating what to say — darts his eyes across the chamber. Stares at every face, even hers, then moves to another in a random order. She doesn’t immediately recognize what’s familiar until she looks down to see Lily comforting herself with jerks of her thumb over the back of Nadya’s hand. The erratic motions of a joystick.

_He’s planning._ The realization makes her hope. Makes her grab Lily’s hand tighter in hers and hope.

“Alibi — I’m here to give you an alibi.” Cadence says suddenly; swats Jameson away from him like the ancient vampire is no more than a fly. Valdas, too, is forgotten.

“If you are able to provide one, yes.” answers Kamilah.

Beside her the Baron snarls, “And quickly…”

“Adrian Raines spent three days with me in the French Quarter. There was very little time to my memory that we weren’t somewhere in each other’s vicinity. In Kathy’s, too.”

Kamilah meets Katherine’s eyes; the women exchange understanding nods.

“Have you any proof?”

The more freedom Cadence is given to talk — the more he uses it. Speaking fast, almost like he’s on a doomsday clock. They all may very well be.

“Financial records from work receipts, I suppose,” he continues with nose scrunched in thought, “as well as research at my office littered with his fingerprints. And—oh yes—and not to mention witnesses with no personal ties to the accused — erm… Mister Raines, that is to say — who would be willing to testify if given time.”

Vega motions like he’s waving Cadence’s words out of the air in a cloud that hangs around him; disgusted.

“Receipts, documents — such things can be forged.”

“Indeed they can —” and whether Cadence knows it or not the brief glow of red in his eyes as he stares the Senator down _could _be taken as a declaration of war, “— from both sides of the trial, I should think.”

Nadya and Lily squeeze their hands so tight it hurts. Both of them keeping from cheering, whoop-ing, something to show their approval.

Vega doesn’t take long to realize he’s talked himself into a corner. He brushes over an eyebrow that wasn’t out of place with his thumb and allows a shrug.

“Very well. The Council has heard and accepted the testimony and alibi provided by one Cadence Smith. However,” he holds up a finger, “that does _not _provide an alibi for the accused during events mentioned by the previous witness for the prosecution. _La Soirée,_ everyone?”

Before them all Cadence holds up a finger, tries and fails several times to speak, but finally gives Adrian an apologetic look.

“Sorry, my friend. But that I cannot do.”

“I believe we have witnesses present who have yet to speak.” Kamilah gestures for Valdas and Isseya to come forward.

In the back of her mind Nadya wants to call out their special treatment — thinks they should be called up separately rather than together — but if this is something that’s going to help Adrian’s case then they can break all the rules they need.

She was there when they admitted to spending that night with him. Kamilah heard it. Marcel heard it. Probably anyone near them with vampire hearing heard it.

And even if it was slow going it was still finally a break. Another crack in whatever wall Vega thought was impenetrable. Cadence had proof. Now Valdas and Isseya would have proof.

_Maybe, just maybe, this thing could swing their way._

Tension like a thick, humid heat falls over the cavern. Nadya half expects to look down and see fog clinging to the bottoms of her jeans.

Between the Council seats and the witnesses’ chairs the Trinity cross Cadence’s path. She can’t tell who is holding whom captive in a long stare but it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Makes Lily cough and clear her throat in the way she does when her fangs appear unbidden.

Then it’s gone — like nothing ever happened. Cadence drops down into an empty seat beside Katherine; tries — and fails — to make himself take up as little space as possible.

And up front the Trinity stand side-by-side.

At Kamilah’s behest Jameson moves to step forward but a look from Isseya draws him to a halt. If anyone really wants to protest… they don’t.

Kamilah begins yet again.

“Begin with your names.”

“Valdemaras of Persepolis.”

“Isseya of the Veneti.”

“And your relationship with the accused?”

It’s the only time Nadya can think of that she’s seen the couple standing together without physical contact. It’s discomforting.

Isseya answers for them both, “We were present during the events of _La Soirée,_ the first night of the Awakening Ball.”

“The Council is aware…” Kamilah measures her words carefully — the same way she did at the castle, “however what we ask for is your _personal _relationship to the accused.”

Discomfort grows inside Nadya into full-on nerves. She chews on the inside of her cheek — bites down so hard she might puncture skin.

The Trinity stay silent. Then, as if steeling herself, Isseya raises her chin and answers for them both again.

“We have none.”

They bridge the gap between them with linked hands. Adrian, too stunned to speak, simply rattles his chair manacles in a brief resistance.

_What the heck is happening._

Above them all Kamilah slowly clenches, unclenches her fist.

“You… _‘have none.’”_ She repeats. Isseya nods curtly.

“That is correct.”

“And you speak the truth?”

“You _dare _question her?” Valdas advances; the picture of complacent yet with blood lacing his words. _Or the promise of it._ “Think carefully before you speak again, Sayeed.”

But unlike at the Ball this time Kamilah doesn’t back down. Snaps her red eyes at the elder vampire with a curled upper lip.

“I should advise the same of you, Valdemaras of Persepolis, and will remind you both of the consequences of lying to this tribunal.”

“You accuse us of _lying,_ now?”

_Of course she does! What is going on?!_

“When I heard the contrary from your own lips with mine own ears — _yes.”_

Valdas breaks their hands only to take another step forward. It doesn’t divide them like it should — instead Nadya looks at the space between them and it just fades into nonexistence. Like an entire ocean could part them and it wouldn’t even matter.

“As it is your tribunal, your disgrace is forgiven this time, _little lotus.”_

Nadya’s never seen Kamilah physically recoil from anything before. But the whole room grows cold with a history she doesn’t know — she tries not to fixate on the pet name which sounds familiar when mouthed mutely but she’s sure she’s never heard before.

_Because the Trinity is lying._

Valdas continues; doesn’t skip a beat. “We will testify once more — but _only once._ My Priestess and I have no personal relationship with the accused; Adrian Raines, no matter what he may boast to the contrary. Such is beneath us.”

He turns and gives the man a sneer in profile — makes Adrian tug at his bonds again with gritted teeth.

“Why are you lying?!” He shouts — and might as well be screaming at stone for all the reaction they give him. “Valdas — Isseya — _please!”_

The crack in his voice says it all. They’re his only alibi for that night.

_They were his last chance._

With steepled fingers Vega looks positively giddy. “Thank you for your time. You may step down — or leave at your leisure with the sincerest apologies from this Council for wasting the Trinity’s time.”

Hands sealed back in place the pair depart in a gust of unseen wind. Cadence hastily fixes his hair out of his eyes. Lily looks between where they stood and the cavern entrance with awe.

Nadya sees her own nausea in Katherine’s face.

Kamilah goes to speak but the Baron catches her off guard. “Well, if that’s all they got…”

“Indeed I believe so.” Vega’s boasting isn’t lost on anyone. “Kamilah — as eldest of us I believe the honor of stating the facts to the accused is yours.”

_Don’t do it. Kamilah please don’t do it._

Whether she can read the pleading in Nadya’s mind or not — Kamilah’s breath wavers as she speaks. Looks to Adrian and only Adrian with heartbreak in every word.

“Adrian Raines,” she begins, “you have been accused by the Council of orchestrating acts of terror against the vampire community of New York and those who lead it.

“Evidence — the legitimacy of which has not been determined by full Council vote — has been brought to the tribunal’s attention which suggests you were performing illegal experiments on Feral subjects without Council permission or knowledge. How do you plead?”

He looks so tired in his torture chair. Skin angry red and swollen, burned and charred black around his wrists and ankles, peeks through his singed clothes.

“Guilty.”

“You have been accused of covering up human deaths in relation to these experiments. How do you plead?”

_“Not_ guilty.”

“You have been accused of having prior knowledge of the Feral attacks that have plagued the community, the Clans, and the Council. How do you plead?”

“…Guilty.”

“You have been accused of orchestrating the murder of the Council of New York at the Awakening Ball. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

“You have been accused of plotted attempts to usurp the Council’s power — the validity and success of which has not been determined by Council vote. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

Slowly Kamilah stands. Vega beside her, then the Baron, Priya, finally Lester.

If the witnesses are supposed to do anything Nadya refuses. Turns her head away because she catches the light of a tear on Adrian’s cheek and can’t bear to look at him or the wretched Council any longer.

She buries her face into Lily’s shoulder.

“Regarding the trial of Adrian Raines… how does the Tribunal vote?”

_Too damned fast. Too damned quick. She wants to stake them all._

“Guilty.”

“Guilty.”

“Guilty fucker.”

“Guilty.”

“Not—guilty.” Kamilah’s voice cracks on her sentence.

Nadya can’t breathe. _Can’t look. Can’t scream. Can’t move._

“By majority vote…” Kamilah pauses — something (or someone) urges her along, “Adrian Raines, you have been found guilty of the crimes of which you are accused. You are hereby stripped of your Council seat and of your ranking position as Leader of Clan Raines. In following Council law your sentence is —”

But she can’t say it.

Nadya looks up just in time to choke back her heart and see Vega snarl the sentence.

“Death by the sun.”

_“NO!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we’ve flown by the point of no return. It’s all fatal from here on out! I'm so _so_ thankful for all of the kudos and love to this fic so far. I'd love to hear back from you in the comments; what changes you like or were surprised by, what you think of the new original characters, etc. It would really make my day!


	18. The High Stakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Adrian's execution literally looming on the horizon Nadya enlists Jax, Lily, Maricruz, and Kamilah to put a crazy, life-threatening plan into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter content warnings:** violence, blood, death, blood-drinking

Nadya’s okay—really she is. Something that Katherine has to assure Lily and Kamilah _for _her; since they seem blinded by personal attachment. Really, she is!  


And it takes a while but the hunter finally gets them to stop fussing over her hand even though she cradles it close to her chest. It still hurts; her fist still stings and there’s a dull throbbing in her shoulder because she threw her arm back a little too enthusiastically. But the pain is nothing compared to the satisfaction.

Satisfaction that she’s sure she’ll feel all over again like it’s for the first time when she’ll go into the office to pack up her desk and see Nicole’s purpling, swollen black eye.

_Whatever it takes._ Jax was right. And she may not have been able to take on the large vampire guards who dragged Adrian away, or frankly any member of the Council (though in the adrenaline high following Adrian’s sentence she sincerely debated whether the Baron or Lester were the weaker links to start with), or the Trinity if she could have caught up with them in time.

No, she couldn’t fight any of them off. But she sure could cross the chamber and throw the hardest punch of her life right in that traitor’s face.

_Whatever it takes._

Cadence and Katherine join them back at the penthouse. They take to the terrace in hushed whispers but no one really notices.

There are more important things to focus on.

Gerard wraps her hand in an ice pack and tea towel. Busies himself by filling the apartment with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee even though what he offers on a silver tray is much darker and thicker than espresso. Lily is somber but takes it hungrily. Kamilah declines with a small shake of her head.

“You need to keep your strength up, Lady Kamilah.” Gerard admonishes. He doesn’t deserve the look she throws his way. “Only trying to help…” He leaves the tray regardless.

No one says anything. Doesn’t know what to say. What to do. The world is at a sort of standstill around them.

Actually it would be easier if it were. Then they wouldn’t know Adrian has twenty-four hours from the approaching dawn to live — wouldn’t know time is still moving around them. Around _him._

The terrace door opens and Katherine has the mind to close the floor-to-ceiling blackout curtains behind her companion.

They shuffle awkwardly — an unusual sight from the Nighthunter’s normal confidence — in the middle of the space.

“If we could stay, we would,” Cadence insists. It sounds more sincere coming from him. “But something’s happened back in New Orleans and…”

“It’s okay.” Nadya knows her smile is halfhearted but they get the idea.

Katherine pats her arm softly. “You stay safe, you hear me? Don’t do anything stupid. Well,” she looks at the ice pack, “don’t do anything _stupider, _I should say.”

Cadence dips his head in an awkward fashion; it takes Nadya a second to realize he’s trying to meet Kamilah’s eyes. But she won’t. Keeps staring down with a thick curtain of hair to help her.

“I wish we could have done more.”

The pair of them make it to the door when Kamilah finally decides to speak. Looks up and stares blankly ahead with her back turned to them both.

“Do not step foot in this city again.”

Cadence hesitates, hand on the doorknob, and throws her back a strange look. “Just because we weren’t enough to save him?”

“No.” There’s a long pause. “Because you court danger, here. Return to your city, to your friends… then take my advice — run. And never stop. They certainly won’t.”

Nadya doesn’t have to ask. _The Trinity._ But her warning leaves more questions than answers and, judging by the look in Cadence’s eyes before Katherine urges them out, he’s just as clueless.

And just like that the weight of everything resumes crushing them.

“It would be unfair to ask; not only for them to risk their lives but to practically throw them away.”

She looks to Kamilah; who sounds like she’s answering some unheard voice’s questions.

“It would be two clans against four.”

“Kamilah?”

The woman looks at her — through her. Too lost in her own thoughts. “Injustice cannot be combated with justice. Not when everything was stacked against our favor. They walked in there… _knew _what they were doing when the tribunal was called. Whether the Trinity gave an alibi or not, they were ready to find the smallest shred of doubt and tear it open.”

_Whatever it takes._

With Kamilah’s every word an idea starts taking shape in Nadya’s brain. Lumpy, sort of misshapen at first; but the more she takes in Kamilah’s protests the more it starts to grow, and grow, and sharpens itself like a blade.

It’s not a good idea by any means. In fact it’s probably the stupidest idea ever had — not just by Nadya but in the history of the world. No doubt the two-thousand year old vampire would agree.

Just as her idea tops itself with whipped cream and a cherry there’s a kiss to her cheek; Nadya looks to see Lily pulling out an old flip-phone.

“I’m gonna call Mari, ask her where to meet. You should come with me.” She glances sideways at Kamilah. “I trust her, I do, but who knows how long it’ll be once Adrian’s gone until they go after her next? And you, too.”

She doesn’t answer. Lily chocks it up to grief and stands; stops when Nadya grabs her wrist like a vice.

“Don’t make that call just yet.”

“But —”

“Lil’, _please.”_

She sits, face still scrunched with doubt. Nadya takes her place instead and, still keeping the ice on her hand, rushes through the hall and to her room.

She finds what she’s looking for in a second; her work purse resting on top of the corner desk and her prize right within. Tucks it under her armpit and returns to the vampires but rather than taking her seat she stands before Kamilah to get her attention.

When that doesn’t work she simply drops the stake in her lap. That does the trick.

Kamilah holds it like one might a large jewel; taken aback and slightly confused as to how it came into her possession.

“One down, three to go.”

Their eyes meet. The way Kamilah looks up at her — so lost and out of touch with the reality around her — it makes Nadya think of when she had the same crisis in her apartment. Kamilah hadn’t held her hand and comforted her. She’d picked Nadya up off her butt and pushed her to take a step forward, then another.

And every step since has been easier than the last — no matter what’s happened.

Kamilah’s lips purse before she tries to offer the weapon back. “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities but even I would struggle to confront the entire Council.”

“So we don’t fight the Council —” nope, and Nadya has to be careful in how forcefully she pushes the stake back, “—at least not yet. For now we just fight our way to Adrian and rescue him. We buy ourselves more time.”

_“‘More time’_ will do nothing to change minds like Vega’s.”

“Oh yeah, that crackpot’s a lost cause. But _someone _was behind the attack at the Ball — maybe the same person who started the Feral Turnings in the first place. We don’t know who but… we know it’s not Adrian.

“I don’t know what to do, Kamilah. I’m freaking out and kinda numb at this point. And I’m not gonna stand here and say you’re sitting down and taking it — mostly because I value my life — but I want to see the same vampire who scared the ever-loving heck out of me, who threatened me, but who also helped and protected me too.

“I’m mad. And when I’m mad — I’m loud. And I do stupid, stupid stuff.”

“She’s serious,” chimes in Lily behind her; reminds her briefly that she and Kamilah aren’t alone, “like, _‘all aboard the bad life choice express’_ serious.”

She shoots Lily a look. Well-meaning, but really? All she gets is a shrug in reply so back to trying to convince Kamilah to join her so-called _‘bad choice express.’_

“I don’t have a… a rallying cry here, okay? So let’s — let’s just get up and go kick some ass before I ramble and end up saying something really dumb and irrelevant.”

Not that Nadya anticipates Kamilah to rise like a phoenix from the ashes, donned in golden armor and wielding a sword and shield — a mental image to file away for a less dire time — but she expects, well, _something._

Even if that something is just a smirk hiding at the corner of her dark lips.

“I’m afraid that has already come to pass.”

She blinks. “What has?”

“Your rather artful way of promising to run your mouth.”

They look down at the stake together — a nice, polished thing; a gift from Adrian once life attempted to get back to normal — and Nadya smiles when she sees Kamilah close it in her grasp.

“They will be holding him in the safest place they know; the Shrike. Nowhere else has the fortifications, the precautions specifically for our kind. Showing my face will immediately raise alarms, but I doubt I have the time to familiarize myself with the tunnels connected to it.”

That’s exactly what Nadya hoped to hear. Throws a look back to Lily who catches on quick and vanishes towards the kitchen with haste and her phone already up to her ear.

“Oh, and sorry I lied.”

Kamilah frowns. “Pardon?”

“I lied — just a second ago.” She offers her good hand out; doesn’t actually expect Kamilah to take it but the vampire is full of surprises today, apparently. Her grip is cool against the clammy sweat on Nadya’s palm and there’s a certain ‘rightness’ restored to the world when their positions change and she looks up into those endlessly dark eyes.

Realizing she’ll have to prompt an answer, the woman quirks a brow. “About what did you lie?”

Sure, her smile still isn’t that well-meaning. Nadya doesn’t even know if she’d call what she’s feeling _hope._ But it’s not that gnawing pit of distress and that’s enough.

Because she’ll do whatever it takes to save Adrian. They both will.

“I _totally _have a plan.”

* * *

The familiar _‘NORTHMUN’_ van doesn’t pull into a spot; just flashes the brights three times before the engine coughs and takes a well-deserved break.

The back doors swing open and Maricruz leaps out, a predatory animal ready to strike, and immediately she and Lily are in one another’s arms.

Nadya shifts awkwardly on the balls of her feet. Tries not to use the scene in front of them — such a tender kiss despite the longing that fuels it — to give her an excuse to see how Kamilah reacts to public displays of affection.

Lucky(?) her, Jax slams the driver door closed and rounds to join them. Still with his hand on the hilt of his sword and glaring near-literal daggers at Kamilah.

Nadya throws Lily a weary look. “I thought you told him.”

Head resting on her girlfriend’s shoulder, Lily rolls her eyes.

“I did.”

“Like I wouldn’t be ready for a trap when _they _are involved.” Jax mutters. To Kamilah’s credit his display doesn’t even seem worth a response.

“Good to see you made it out of the frying pan intact, _chica.”_ Mari offers; either doesn’t care about the tension or is so content with Lily returned to her that she can put her hatred of the Council and the Clans aside. If only Jax could do the same.

Nadya can only breathe the barest laugh. “Thanks for joining us in the fire.”

Jax stuffs his hands in his pants pockets. “We haven’t agreed yet.”

“Jax…”

“No, Nadya,” Kamilah steps forward; manages to look down her nose at the leader of the Clanless quite easily, “his wariness is inconvenient — yes — but not unfounded. And if he wishes to treat this like a business deal then I see no harm in complying. So long as he doesn’t waste what precious little time we have.”

Nadya checks her phone—09:09—stifles a yawn and tries not to think that every hour gone is one hour closer to sunset.

They have the bare bones of a plan; and even that’s being generous. Too many variables, too many unknowns… the only thing they can all agree on is the universal fact that what they’re attempting is foolish, risky, and may very well end up in more than just Adrian dead if anything goes wrong.

Now, the only thing stopping them is Jax’s bruised ego.

He steps towards Kamilah with a twitching upper lip. “If you think you can just stand there and talk down to me when it’s _my help_ you need — you can forget it.”

“Jax — no — that’s just how she talks.” Lily supplies helpfully. It isn’t helpful at all.

Nadya feels like she’s going to suffocate under the weight of it. Of the tension, of their time limit, of everything.

“We don’t have time for this.”

“Yeah, well, make time.”

Kamilah snorts. “For a child’s petulant whining?”

“Oh, right. Well how about I take my whining and my van and book it?”

He’s met with silence and considers it a victory. Before Kamilah can clench her fist at her side Nadya slips her hand close ‘on accident’ and immediately the touch goes soft.

“Jax,” she has to swallow down her fear, _“please.”_

“I thought we’d finally gotten you to listen, to understand a little about what we deal with as Clanless. The risks people like us — people like _Lily _— have to take to survive because of people like her.” He jabs a finger at Kamilah.

She’s ready to spout out whatever needs to be said to get Jax to change his mind. He’s there, which meant he had to be open to some kind of discussion… right? Why else would he have come — not just to get Lily? Nadya hopes Maricruz might have a solution but the woman shakes her bob of neon blue hair. This is just the way he is.

“I understand your plight.”

All eyes are on Kamilah and with understandable surprise. She continues before Jax has the chance to spit out the insult ready on the tip of his tongue. “You know your worth, your value — your _power._ You cower in the shadows and watch the creatures in the light — those who think they are better than you by right of passage, birth, both; neither. You wish simply to exist. Regardless of whether you see your new life as a curse or a blessing… there is a part of you that yearns, _aches _for what you had before: freedom.”

After moments of torturous silence… Jax nods.

“We deserve the right to live without punishment of death.”

“Yes. You do.”

Even Nadya’s a little confused; she’ll admit. Jax’s thoughts race across his face like a film in fast-forward — his emotions on full display in a range. Anger—sadness—confusion… doubt.

Finally he settles on spite. “What game are you playing?”

“None,” she answers, “merely pointing out that we are not so different: you and I, your kind and mine. You are a product of a flawed world; of a failed autocracy and noble intentions that led to ignoble actions. And above all that you are young. So much of your history — _our history_ — is unknown to you.

“Yet I have seen it all: the end of the old regime and the birth of the new one… and how that, too, crumbled to dust. We did not intend to demonize our own. We were placed in a delicate position and at the time our solution was a workable one.

“The populations were drastically uneven. One deviant working alone could destroy the entire system. It didn’t matter if they were Feral or just craved violence. To those of us who lived it, the horrors of what happened in Europe were still fresh in our minds and we promised _‘never again’_ because that was our only choice.”

The elder’s words hang over them all; tightening the air and making it hard to breathe. The way she speaks — there are things Kamilah’s holding back. Things she doesn’t want to say… or maybe _can’t _even after all this time.

But the slow melody of her voice and her careful choice of words works hard to paint a picture in the distance for them all. Just clear enough to let their imaginations fill in the horrible and terrible rest.

Or… that’s probably how it is for Jax, for Lily, for Maricruz.

For Nadya? It’s like a reel — the worst things in eye-stinging clarity. It’s that strange blurry seconds-to-hours right after sleep and just before waking where your dream happens all at once before it fades into nothing.

She doesn’t know _how _she knows. Feels like she has no _right _to know; like she’s somehow intruding on the intimacy of Kamilah’s entreating of Jax by knowing — _by seeing_ — what she endured though someone else’s eyes.

_Blood in rivers. Brief moments of joy dashed like clouds over the sun. Righteous fire and no bodies to bury. Only ash left on open palms._

But she pushes it down. Shoves it all into a small box inside her already filled to the brim with every other dreamlike memory and sits on the lid praying nothing will get out. Because that’s what needs to be done right now. 

For Adrian.

_Whatever it takes._

“What do you want from me,” Jax asks with a hard edge, “what do you want me to say? Do you want me to pity you; to comfort you? Because no one was there to comfort the Clanless killed on the Council’s orders — on _your _orders — when they suffered. No one.”

“For now I want for nothing.”

“Then I think we’re done here.”

“However…” Jax’s hand pauses on the van door; keeps his back turned and tense but he’s not leaving. He’s letting Kamilah finish.

She tries again. _“However,_ I would _ask _for your help in rescuing Adrian. Not only because he has been the Council’s largest advocate for the Clanless, and should we right this wrong done unto him may find himself dedicated to helping your people — your cause.

“But also because _he is a good man_ — the best of us all. He is good man who suffers now from the same corrupt system which you seek to destroy. And because he is all I have left in this world which gives me hope.”

Yet almost in denial of what she’s saying Kamilah twists her hand and closes her fingers through Nadya’s. Holds her hand delicately; like her bones are as fragile as bird wings. She doesn’t need to say anything.

Jax is struggling. With his conscience, with his code, with his morals and with the thoughts of how this could be turned in his favor. Though his fringe he looks over to Mari. She gives him the least helpful half-shrug in the world.

“We’ve never turned our back on someone in trouble,” she answers his silence, “they just always happened to be one of our own. Maybe we could branch out a bit.”

Lily snort-laughs; kisses her girlfriend’s cheek.

It’s not much… but apparently it’s enough for Jax to take a cautious step towards Kamilah. A breath — and he extends his hand.

She takes it wordlessly. The pact is sealed.

“Fine, get in, We’re wasting daylight.” He barks like a General; rounds back to the driver’s seat while Mari opens up the back. “We gotta swing by a guy I know first — it’d be a good idea to get Lily’s tech, too. Espinoza, do you still have those old schematics of the warehouse district?”

They clamor into the cramped space. Even trying to take up as little room as possible Nadya’s thigh presses up against Kamilah’s intimately. The vampire doesn’t pull away.

“Don’t need ‘em,” Mari taps her temple, “all up here. We gotta use a different lure this time, though.”

“Oh!” Lily bounces in place, “what if we did the Chirp Wireless job, but in reverse?”

The van resists waking once, twice, then heaves to life. Jax revs the engine.

“I like the way you think, kid.”

He peels out of the garage; too fast for Nadya to grab for purchase. But before she can fall she feels something like steel around her waist — looks to see Kamilah’s arm holding her steady.

“Do not worry,” and the affection in her voice sparks more heat inside Nadya than purposeful seduction ever could, _“I’ve got you.”_

* * *

_“No need to worry,”_ Past-Nadya had said, _“I’ve never been claustrophobic.”_

Past-Nadya was an idiot who thought only of herself and didn’t even take into account how Future-Nadya might feel about things.

And as current Present-Nadya and on the verge of becoming Future-Nadya… she wouldn’t mind giving Past-Nadya a piece of her freakin’ mind.

She shifts her hips; tries to get her knees into a more comfortable position. Her aching joints scream in protest but they, too, want this plan to work so they just let her do what she needs to.

Outside the stale darkness of the shipping crate she strains to hear the conversation — wonders if this is really taking as long as it feels or if time is just moving extremely slowly when she has nothing to do but wait.

She’s about to try a more daring stretch when she finally hears Maricruz off to her left. Freezes in place like that will help.

_“Fine evening, ain’t it boys?”_

_“You’re in the wrong part of town.”_ Comes a gruff reply. Mari laughs it off with ease.

_“Am I really? Stupid me, I guess. But if you know so much why don’t you tell me where I’m supposed to be delivering all this fine-ass hooch because it don’t look illegal if I walk it in through the front door. And we both know_ el Baron _is all about the looks.”_

A suspicious silence follows. Nadya strains her ears so hard she can’t hear anything but the blood pumping through her skull.

But Mari plays it cool. This isn’t her first job and it’s not a skill she’s let grow lax with the years. Nadya’s starting to see why Lil’s got it hard for her.

Finally one of the Baron’s men speaks — only his voice is much closer and Nadya has to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from squeaking in surprise.

_“So all this is on his orders, huh?”_

Mari snorts. _“Uh, no shit.”_

_“Funny, ‘cuz I’m pretty sure after your last little stunt he cut all ties with you smuggler freaks.”_

The chorus of _‘oh crap oh crap ohcrap’_ in Nadya’s thoughts is so loud she doesn’t know how the vampires can’t hear it through the box.

But Maricruz rolls with the punches — doesn’t even hesitate.

_“Not my fault you’re too low on the totem pole to know any better. So low you didn’t even get the night off for his little victory shindig. All that body’a yours and no one to pet it.”_

_“What’re you harpin’ on about?”_

_“Wow… you_ really _don’t know.” _Mari ticks her tongue. _“Shame. All this —”_ there’s a thud as Mari’s hand just so happens to smack the box Nadya is inside, _“— is for_ el Baron’s v_ictory party after that jackass Clan-whatever-Leader cabrón is fried crispy.”_

_“Raines?”_

_“Yeah, sure. I don’t give a shit. I just know I gotta cart over three crates of imported champagne to Lacroix after this and I should’a been there already. So thanks for fucking with my schedule.”_

She’s gotta hand it to the woman — even Nadya would be struggling to tell the truths from the lies if she were the one being conned. But that’s what makes her good at what she does.

The _tap-tap-tap_ of Mari’s nail on the lid of her crate stops just short. She probably wouldn’t have heard the vampire’s rebuttal if he wasn’t obviously right in Mari’s space.

_“And what about that heartbeat I hear in there, huh? Hooch don’t sound like that.”_

_“That’s a gift for the doorman, dumbass. But if you don’t want her…”_ She’s almost sing-song when she seals the deal. But it’s all acting, right? _Please dear God let it just be acting._

Then with a lurch Nadya’s moving — too bad her stomach doesn’t follow with.

Lily has strict orders not to talk on the comm. piece in her ear for fear of over-sensitive vampire hearing but she can just imagine how proud she is of Mari. Ten bucks on a full-circle chair spin at the very least.

_“You’ll go in through the cellars with a load like that.”_

_“I know how to do my job.”_

_“But get in and get out fast. The Boss’ll be coming down to take Raines to his execution soon. If he sees you’re the deliverer I’m gonna lose my neck.”_

There’s more thumping, squeaking, and the rattling of metal before something heavy scrapes against the ground. Immediately Nadya’s senses flash back to her first time in these very dungeons — she tries not to let it fill her with hopelessness and fear; all the things she _didn’t know_ and _didn’t want to know_ back then fighting their way to the surface.

_Whatever it takes. _She tamps them back down firmly.

When the Baron’s henchman speaks again his voice is distant. This is actually working.

_“And leave that little snack a’mine in the last cell — you know what, shove a bottle in there with her. If I gotta work I might as well enjoy it.”_

_“Amen, brother.”_

Time slows again in silence. That or maybe she really is in here for hours. _No…_ Adrian doesn’t _have _hours. She trusts Mari.

Then on muted cue there’s a series of loud _thuds _and the creak of the wooden lid above her lifting free.

The dim torchlight isn’t much but it’s brighter than the void of the crate so Nadya shields her eyes. Has to blink back bright spots before she can see again.

When her vision clears Maricruz looks down at her with a disapproving frown. “Don’t think I didn’t catch your heartbeat out there, _chica,”_ Nadya takes her extended hand and unfurls herself from the crate with a struggle, “have you no faith?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a conversation for another time.”

“All right, but I’ve got a good long memory.”

While Nadya unkinks every joint in her body Mari lifts one of the crates filled with actual liquor and drops it aside to pry open the one underneath it. Jax claws his way out with straw in his hair and a glower.

“I’m with her on this one,” he jerks his head at Nadya. A piece of straw flutters to the ground. “You took forever with that. Next time just dust them and be done with it.”

“I was prepared for a scenario with more idiots to con, thank you very much.”

_“Well I thought you stole the show, baby.”_

All three of them jerk at the sudden noise at which Lily speaks in their ears. The signal feedback screeches and threatens to pop her eardrum.

“Too loud, cupcake!” Mari says through clenched teeth. Lily mutters an apology and the second time around she’s at a much more manageable volume. “Better, better.”

_“Sorry guys. We were still calibrated for the construction site job.”_

Jax looks around with a grim frown. It’s then that Nadya realizes the last time he was in here he, too, was trapped.

“You okay?” she asks quietly. Jax nods.

“Glad I’m on the other side of the bars this time.”

“You and me both.” Mari hauls the cart aside; presses her finger to the piece in her ear. “Ready with the electrics over there?”

Lily’s reply is fuzzy with static. _“I think so. This place is pretty dark but back up top the doors have a random passcode generator. They probably flip it with each new rotation.”_

“But can you get it for us?”

_“If Cleopatra would stop breathing down my ne —_ OW!”

Her cry makes Mari stop in her stacks, literally. “Lil’? What the fuck?”

There’s shuffling and feedback. Jax doesn’t wait; just grabs the nearest torch out of its sconce and starts dragging the light over the nearest closed cell doors.

_“She is mostly unharmed,”_ comes Kamilah’s drawl in their ears, _“and has learned her lesson about pet names. Nadya — you’re well?”_

She tries not to blush in Mari’s presence but the smuggler couldn’t care less; muttering likely insults in Spanish under her breath as she passes Nadya up to join Jax.

“Yeah — yeah I’m okay.”

_“Good. Then make haste. They’ll be coming to collect Adrian soon and likely assumed there would be resistance from him. We don’t want them to have brought more guards than we prepared for.”_

Replying would only waste more of their time, so Nadya grabs a torch wordlessly to help join the search.

_“And Nadya?”_

“Yeah Kamilah?”

Silence, then: _“Be safe.”_

“I will.”

How this winding labyrinth of cells was first built is beyond her, but Nadya wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she came to learn that the Cellars were built solely for the Baron’s purposes. The place isn’t at capacity in the slightest — there’s maybe two empty cells for every forlorn soul that she holds her flickering flame over — but it’s not like that’s something she’s happy to see. There are still way too many captives both human and vampire alike.

_And she was almost one of them._

She learns not to get too close when a vampire — not Feral in the literal sense, but feral nonetheless — rushes at her and tries to claw for any scrap of her flesh from the rusted bars of her prison.

“I’m so sorry.” Nadya whispers and continues on.

Rounding the corner to a new row she spots Jax’s face in faint orange at a cell near the very end.

“He’s over here!”

She almost drops her torch in her haste — rushes down the damp corridor just as Maricruz appears in a blur at Jax’s side.

“Adrian!”

Maybe expecting Adrian to be leaning against the bars with the relieved delight of a damsel in distress was too much, but he isn’t even awake. “What’s wrong with him?” She looks between the vampires as Maricruz works her crowbar on the lock. “Why isn’t he getting up? Adrian? _Adrian!”_

_“What’s the matter?”_ Comes Kamilah’s worry over the comms. 

“He’s unconscious,” Jax replies, smacks his open palm on one of the bars. “Hey, come on Raines! Get up!”

Nadya’s voice cracks. “Kamilah he—he isn’t waking up. _Why isn’t he waking up?”_

_“Without seeing him myself I —”_

_“Corwin!”_

Lily’s blunt interruption stops Kamilah mid-sentence. _“The Corwin chair took, like, a shitton of energy out of him right?”_

The heavy noise of the snapped lock echoes through the stone. Maybe they’re too far underground for anyone to have heard them. Or maybe vampires hear better than she thinks. Either way they need to _move._

The door swings open and Nadya runs inside. Skids her knees across the dirty floor but pushes the burning pain aside for Adrian’s sake.

_“Check his wrists,”_ instructs Kamilah, _“does he still show signs of the chair’s magics?”_

“What _‘magic chair’_ are you guys talking about?” Jax stands in the middle of the pathway, his eyes darting left and right for sign of attack. “Get him up — we need to go. _Now.”_

Nadya ignores the man and gingerly pulls up Adrian’s wrists where his suit sags from his position. The smell makes her nose crinkle before she even sees the wounds up close. Really wishes she hadn’t.

“I-It looks like the bleeding’s only just stopped. I need something to bandage him up — _oh god_ — it’s awful.” 

It takes all of Nadya’s effort to keep the contents of her stomach inside. She looks around for something—_anything_—to use but straw isn’t exactly going to do the trick. Instead she focuses on trying to wake him up; shakes his shoulder first with hesitance then almost violent force.

“Adrian? Adrian come on — wake up! We both know I can’t physically carry you out of here you — you jerk!”

_“Nadya if you — will someone calm her?”_

Then Mari’s hand is pulling her away. _No, they need to help him._ “Kamilah how do I wake him up?!”

“If he hasn’t yet begun to heal then they have kept him from feeding. Injuries from magic take a great toll on us — and take a great deal of energy to heal. He won’t wake until he is fed.”

Jax gives a grunt of frustration. “Well we didn’t bring any blood bags so he’s gonna have to suck it up.”

“Not funny.” Mari mutters. “But if you want to get technical we _did _bring a food source…”

The vampires stare at Nadya in silence. The digital feedback from the comms tells Nadya that Lily and Kamilah are listening on bated breath.

_Right. Of course they did._

With a frightful look back at Adrian’s unconscious form, prone and almost innocent on the floor-level cot, she swallows her fear.

“Okay.”

“It’s risky.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“He might not even know it’s you,” Jax argues, “and drain whatever source comes his way regardless.”

“It’s a risk I’m gonna take.”

Mari nods. “One we have to take if we don’t want all this to be for nothing.”

Nadya shoves up her sleeve — fumbles as she tries to debate if her neck would be better — but while she trusts Adrian she also knows it’ll be safer for them both if she isn’t _bleeding from the neck_ in a dungeon full of starving vampires.

_“I… have to agree with the stubborn one on this,”_ Kamilah’s voice makes her hesitate, _“the Adrian you know has reformed his hunger — and also feeds in moderation daily. Starvation may bring out a different side of him.”_

“We can’t leave him here Kamilah!”

_“I did not say I disagree.”_

“So agree with me that there’s no other option. They’ll stop him from hurting me… right guys?” Nadya looks back to the others. Mari gives a curt nod.

Over the comm. she can hear the depth and worry in Kamilah’s sigh.

“I trust him.”

_“As do I.”_

“So trust me.”

Finally; _“Very well. Stop him the moment he begins to heal. It should be enough to wake him and get out. He can regain all his strength when you’re out of there.”_

Important thoughts initially pushed aside, thoughts like _‘if he’s unconscious how can I make him drink?,’_ come back when Nadya holds her wrist just over his mouth. Nothing happens.

“Adrian…” she steels herself and lowers her arm for her pulse to beat between his pale lips, “I know you’re gonna hate yourself for this later. But right now there isn’t gonna _be _a later if you don’t drink.”

It’s a miracle but he starts to stir. She shudders when the tip of his warm tongue touches her pulse point. But it retreats — his body closes in on itself.

“No no _no!”_ Nadya grasps his forehead with her other palm and practically forces her wrist back into place. “This isn’t a _‘between you and me’_ situation, okay? You’re gonna drink, and you’re gonna stop, and we’re gonna get you out of here — get _all _of us out of here; me included. But we can’t carry you. You’ve gotta stand on your own two feet. So, uh, you know, wakey wakey… eggs and bak-ey. Chop chop! _Get with the sucking!”_

Judging by the reactions on Mari and Jax’s faces she regrets it… quite a lot. And is suddenly very very glad Kamilah isn’t there in person.

He’s not resisting this time — which is the only good thing. He still refuses to pierce skin. “Adrian… come on, please,” she’s practically whining now; pressured by the way Jax keeps looking back and forth like he’s invested in a sped-up game of ping-pong.

On her last thread Nadya leans in and whispers in Adrian’s ear.

_“You wouldn’t let me die at the Ball and I’m not gonna let you die now. So bite, vampire boy, and beat yourself up about it later.”_

There’s an unseen pressure on her wrist followed by a piercing pain. She swallows her cry because she has to. Then her skin feels wet, and his tongue presses flat against the wound, and _wow that’s the strangest sensation she’s ever felt in her life_ but, you know, _new experiences._

_“What you are doing is incredibly generous, Nadya. Just breathe.”_

Kamilah talks her through it. Her voice eases the pain somewhat. Keeps her from having a violent reaction when Adrian springs to life like an automaton and holds her arm down in a vice-grip.

It’s hard to tell in the darkness, especially as things start to go a little blurry at the edges of her vision, but Nadya’s so trained on Adrian and the promise of his recovery that she can _see _the change in him. The sickly translucence leaving his cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes swelling fresh with life.

On his wrists the charred flecks of unsalvageable skin fall off like ash; replaced new — healthy and pinkish in hue.

“Okay he’s healing.” Mari’s voice is fuzzy in her ears. _Who shoved cotton balls in there without her permission?_

_“Then pull her away!”_

Kamilah’s panic shakes her out of her stupor. Nadya tries to remove her arm but with each passing second Adrian grows stronger — his hold alongside. “Adrian stop. Seriously — that’s enough.”

_“She won’t be able to fight him with reason. Pull her, Clanless, now!”_

“Enough, Raines — enough!”

Knives slice over her wrist and Nadya cries out; thrown back from Adrian’s cot-side and to the far wall where she skids the heels of her palms roughly.

When the stars stop spinning in front of her eyes Nadya stares at Maricruz holding Adrian—now sitting up—back with visible effort. His eyes are red but glazed. Nadya can’t look away from the shine of her blood at the corner of his mouth.

“Get it together, Raines,” Mari grunts with a few smacks to his solid chest, “you’d beat yourself dead if you hurt her and you know it.”

Watching Adrian come back to himself is a strange sight. The way he shifts in his own skin like whatever beast was trying to push through is being restrained; put back in its cage. It feels like she’s witnessing the answer to the great mystery asked by horror writers the world over.

_What is the appeal of the vampire?_ This is. The way he goes from monster to man in the blink of an eye. Literally too; one blink and red fades back to the deep dark warmth she’s used to and even knowing what she just witnessed Nadya still feels herself relax around the familiar presence.

Adrian shakes his head, rouses himself from the fog in his mind. “Wh—What…?”

“Thanks for joining us _pendejo_ — better late than never.” Maricruz helps him along with a few (well-meaning, Nadya’s sure) smacks to the face before she’s across the cell in a blur. Grabs Nadya’s injured wrist like she’s holding a tiny porcelain doll and bares her fangs.

“Hold… still…” Sure, Nadya holds, but Mari doesn’t do anything — which is a cause for concern? Maybe? _Probably?_

“Uh… Maricruz?”

“Huh?”

“What’re you doing?”

“You smell… _wow.”_

Immediately the human yanks her hand back no matter how much it hurts. Tries to fight off that natural instinct her mind has to conjure up the worst possible scenario that takes into account she’s surrounded by vampires, three uncaged, and one still jonesing for a fix to recover his full strength.

“Heal her… _now.”_

Adrian’s croaking command works — not gonna argue with that — brings the other vampire back to herself as she swipes the pad of her thumb over a fang like one might strike a match. Quick, efficient; and before the cut can close up she drags her blood over Nadya’s wrist in a smeared circle to close her wounds.

“Thank you.” says Nadya quietly. Maricruz departs without another word.

She stands; brushes herself off before holding out a helping hand for Adrian to take. She can feel him resisting putting all of his weight on her but it’s enough.

He rolls his shoulders, tries to flash his usual devil-may-care smile but when he starts to lean dangerously to the left she grabs him as best she can.

“Whoa whoa… easy there.”

“I — Sorry.”

“I didn’t know vampires could get vertigo.”

He means to shoot a look at her joke but, when met with her smile, returns it. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“Don’t think I’m not grateful, but we’re going to talk about this crazy stunt later.”

_“Nadya, please pass along a message for me.”_

Nadya grunts as she helps Adrian with his first hesitant steps. When they duck through the cell doorway he’s able to stand unaided — if winded. “Of course.”

_“Tell him he’s a fool to think we would have done nothing.”_

She gives a small smile down at her shoes before looking up at Adrian.

“Kamilah says she loves you.”

His expression says _‘I highly doubt that,’_ and Kamilah’s protests in her ear aren’t helping. But they take hands and squeeze.

_He’s gonna be safe._

“Fully intending to break up the moment here — but I’m pretty sure I just heard a door a few blocks over.”

That’s how Adrian notices Jax for the first time. Looks him up and down and, like most, lingers on the sword now drawn and in a clenched hand.

“Do I have enough time to ask why the Leader of the Clanless is helping rescue me?”

Which is enough to make both Clanless pause — Jax dumbstruck while Maricruz hastily rushes to pick up the long stake she dropped before it hits the ground.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course,” says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “as if I would scour the city to find the source of the Feral attacks without checking into the Shadow Den? What do you take me for?”

Jax’s sword twitches dangerously at his side.

“You know about the Shadow Den?”

Nadya looks for help but it’s clear from Mari’s glare she isn’t going to provide. Stares at Adrian with the exact same wariness; always on the defensive.

“Is now really the time for this? Didn’t you just say —”

“Tell me who ratted us out.”

“I’ve known for years — Kamilah has, too.”

Lily gives a tinny gasp. _“The plot thickens!”_

_“So long as they remained non-threatening we were content to let the Clanless have their space in peace,”_ explains Kamilah, though her frustration is only thinly veiled, _“but perhaps this would be better discussed at a later time?”_

Jax looks like his whole world has inverted. Mari, too, struggles with the same sort of stupor but shakes herself out of it at the sound of footsteps and muffled voices bouncing off the walls.

Nadya’s blood runs cold. If _she _can hear them, then they’ve already run out of time.

Chest puffed out Jax steps forward to confront Adrian with burning eyes. “If you bastards did anything to my people, I swear —”

“Oi! Later, Matsuo!” And his time to protest runs out when the first large shadow is cast on the wall ahead of them. “Time’s up!”

_“There they are!”_

One shadow becomes two, becomes four, becomes a mass of hulking bodyguards rushing at them so fast the wind they gather almost blows out the torches.

_“They’ve got Raines! Kill the others — the boss needs Raines alive!”_

Mari and Adrian think the same — push Nadya behind them on both sides where she stumbles and falls behind the liquor crates.

There’s a shout that turns into a wet noise. Nadya looks up just over the rim and sees the nearest body collapse to the ground with the head rolling several feet away before they both crumble into ash. Blood drips from the tip of Jax’s sword, splatters in an uneven pattern on the wall as he readies himself for the next idiot to get too close.

She watches Maricruz vault herself over the cart and slam her boot into another guard’s chest. He goes toppling down, pinned and prone, then turns to dust under her strike.

“Nadya, stay down!” Adrian shouts. It’s just enough distraction for the guard he’s holding back to wrench their bodies against a nearby cell wall. The old metal creaks and bends in protest.

He’s too weak to fight — he can barely stand. Nadya looks around for help but Jax is locked in combat with another vampire, his sword cast aside in the fray, and Mari is too far down the hall to staunch the flow of enemies.

There’s a glint out of the corner of her eye and Nadya catches sight of Jax’s sword peeking out of an empty cell. Straw clings to the blood on the blade but it’s _right there._

“Okay,” she breathes, “you can do this.”

_“Whatever you’re thinking of —”_ starts Lily…

_“— do not dare!”_ Kamilah finishes for her. Nadya grits her teeth and yanks the bud out of her ear. She has enough self-doubt as it is and being told not to do something might just be what holds her back.

“You can do this. You can do this. Whatever it takes, right? Right! Go go _go!”_

Nadya propels herself out from behind safety just in time to see Adrian’s legs give out from underneath him after a punch to the gut. Blood trickles from his temple — the shallow cut too much to heal in his weakened state.

Quickly she fumbles, grabs the katana’s hilt and lifts the surprisingly heavy blade with all her might. “Oh my god oh my god ohmygodoh_mygod ohmygod OHMYGOD!”_ She screams the mantra like a battle cry and swings wildly — more dragged along by the weapon than in control of it — in the direction of Adrian’s assailant.

In retrospect squeezing her eyes shut probably isn’t the _best _idea. Doesn’t stop her. Just like the sudden resistance in her whirlwind of bladed fury doesn’t stop her from yanking as hard as she can — strength is one thing but this is one sharp freakin’ sword.

The resistance doesn’t last long but she’s on a roll. She’s speed, she’s fury; a legendary warrior for the ages. And with battle cry that deafens everything else around her.

“— adya—Nadya! _NADYA!”_

There’s panic in the voice calling her name and Nadya doesn’t get to stop and register it on her own. Instead feels a strong hand on her elbow and the sword wrenched from her grasp. Her battle cry almost turns into a shriek of terror.

“Nadya. Open your eyes.”

There’s gotta be some logic left rattling up there since she obeys. Even petrified Nadya wouldn’t listen to the bad guys when they told her what to do. But this isn’t a bad guy, its Adrian pulling her into his arms and keeping her from flailing herself to injury.

When she inhales _something _fills her lungs; makes her pull back choking. Behind her Adrian eases her through it with a hand on her back, his voice soft.

“It’s over now. Hey, hey see? Look around. It’s over.”

The ash of victory blackens Mari’s neon hair as she comes back their way. Jax, too, sweeps the remains of the Baron’s men from his leather jacket.

But Nadya’s still wired; adrenaline coursing through her veins. She’s dizzy, and buzzing, and wants to collapse for a year-long nap but could run a marathon in between.

“We don’t have long before more show up — and round two might not be just a bunch of N-P-Cs.”

“Espinoza’s right,” Jax sheathes his retrieved sword, “run now and talk later.”

Not that no one’s been saying it for the last god-knows-how-long but it’s enough for them to finally get their feet moving. The momentum from the fight blew out most of the torches but Nadya trusts the night-vision of her companions as Adrian pulls her along with a firm grasp.

She’s not sure about a lot in life but one thing she knows for certain is Adrian Raines would use the last of his strength if it meant keeping hold of her hand.

With one last look behind them Nadya trips over her feet. Stares at the floor caked with ash.

Adrian eases her back into running; casts Nadya a worried glance.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing — I…” She tries to wipe the ash from her cheek; smears it instead.

Because he’s Adrian he knows.

“You saved my life. That’s what you did — nothing else matters.”

_I killed a vampire._

“You’re sure?”

He leads her up the stairs and into the freedom of the night.

“Damn sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The responses and comments to the last chapter were amazing, so thank you to all who told me how much they loved it! I hope this one didn’t disappoint either! Nadya’s finally starting to get in on the action, so follow her through ‘til the end! In celebration of officially _finishing writing this fic_ I've decided to upload a chapter early! Tomorrow will still have an update.


	19. The Eleventh Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Adrian no longer on death row everyone is forced to go underground; literally. Everyone takes time in the Shadow Den to regroup. Nadya finally talks about her visions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter content warnings:** none

When Adrian turns around he’s straightening out the cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves; rolls his freshly healed wrists to get used to the movement again and then gestures widely to his audience of two for critique.

“How do I look?”

Nadya’s foot jiggles over her knee. “I dunno. Something’s just…”

“Just what?” Adrian’s never been one she’d take as vain but anything less than a perfect ten seems to worry him. He looks to Lily. “What’s wrong, will I not blend in?”

Lily’s present only in body — has to look up and push her reading glasses away from the tip of her nose to survey him. She nods and clicks her tongue, “Oh, I see what you mean.”

“Right?”

“Exactly.”

Adrian snaps to grab their attention. “Will one of you tell me what you’re _seeing?_ Please?”

Nadya approaches him with a grin and pulls him down by the ratty collar of his borrowed shirt. The much stronger, much faster vampire actually squeezes his eyes shut when she reaches up and ruffles his hair; replaces his carefully maintained pressed comb with imperfect dishevelment.

“Much better.”

“Yeah,” Lily sets her computer aside for a proper view, “nobody here looks _that _put together. Not even my girl — and she spends an hour on her curls every night.”

With a scoff Adrian gives Nadya a playful push, mutters about his hair being just fine the way it is. But she doesn’t miss the quick turn he gives back to the cracked vanity mirror in the corner.

“Ready then? Let’s get going.”

The familiar smell of instant ramen makes Jax and Mari’s loft feel a little more homey; for Nadya anyway. Lily joins her girlfriend by the single stove and inhales with deep longing. They share a brief kiss before Maricruz gives Adrian her approval with a nod.

_“‘Sex hair’_ is a good look on you. For a dude.”

Jax and Kamilah look their way from where they sit across from one another at the small table. The sight reminds Nadya to make sure to check in on Brandon and Greer when this is all over.

_Please let this all be over soon._

Nadya goes to sit on Kamilah’s side when Adrian pulls out a chair for her before first taking his own; wedges her in between the Council (well, _former _Council now) vampires like her personal bodyguards.

“We don’t know how long we’re going to be hiding out here, Kamilah. You should work to blend in.”

Adrian’s comment draws a slow roll of her eyes. The moment she saw him safe and sound in person was the moment things started to back to normal for the closed-up vampiress. Already Nadya’s found it practically impossible to get any sort of physical affection from her.

She gives him the same brush-off. “I see no point in a ruse no one will believe.”

Across the table Jax doesn’t look up from where he’s scrubbing ash out of his jacket but he does cough out a laugh. “At least someone’s honest.”

But Adrian disagrees. “There are over a hundred vampires — at least — scouring New York for us. That’s not even taking into account who from our own Clans may have decided to turn traitor…” His voice grows a sharp edge. “We already know of at least one.”

_Nicole._ Her name and presence lingers over them like a cold breath. Now that her hand is healed courtesy of Mari’s blood she wouldn’t mind sustaining a repeat injury.

He continues, “We may be safe down here for now but this isn’t a permanent solution.”

“You’re damn right it isn’t.”

Nadya stops mid-thanks at Lily for bringing her over a bowl of ramen to glare Jax’s way. 

“Hey — come on, now. We’re in this together.”

“You will hold up your end of our bargain,” Kamilah adds.

As his deputy takes her seat and pulls Lily into her lap Jax makes a gesture of slamming his wooden brush against the table surface. Hot broth slips from Nadya’s spoon and narrowly misses her thigh.

He looks at Kamilah with the same challenge as he had earlier.

“As far as I’m concerned any bargain of ours is done,” he growls, “you needed help getting Abercrombie here out of the Baron’s cells and that’s what we did. Giving him safe harbor in the Shadow Den is pretty much where my generosity ends when it comes to the likes of you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten anything that the Clans have done to me and mine up until now.”

Nadya can feel Kamilah’s aura change beside her. It makes her stomach turn; makes her a little less starving than she was a moment ago.

But before she can reach out and try to take the woman’s hand Adrian takes them all by surprise — leans forward on his elbows with laced fingers in front of a grim frown.

“We’re not trying to cast any of that aside.”

“Good. Then we can start talking about your reparations.”

“Now?” Adrian can’t keep a cool face. He isn’t the only one, either.

Maricruz winds one of Lily’s locs around her wrist — playing with it like it’s alive; a pet snake of some sort. “Not that anyone asked for my advice but if your goal is to keep on living then staying in town isn’t the best idea.”

“By now I suspect all public and conventionally private ways off of the island are well-guarded by their Clans.” Kamilah points out.

“Not to mention with the influence Vega has alone?” It makes Nadya shudder. “I’m afraid to see tonight’s paper. My Raines Corp. ID photo isn’t exactly the most flattering.”

“Really,” Jax snaps, _“that’s_ what you’re worried about?”

“No, but if you really want to know everything I’m worried about I’d get comfortable because we could be here a while.”

The hunger is definitely starting to make her crabby — she starts eating so there’s something stopping her from running her mouth. They need to come up with a plan but nothing will get done if they’re at each other’s throats like this.

Pun not intended — but appreciated. Even if it’s only appreciated by her.

His chair squeaks when Jax stands up; tugs his jacket on with jerking motions. “I’ll say this one more time just in case you weren’t paying attention,” he leers at Kamilah and Adrian, “Mari and I risked our skins to get you out of there. I know firsthand how terrible the Cellars can be. But don’t think I did it out of pity or a sense of justice — she-witch here says you care about my people? Prove it. Start fixing what you broke.”

And Adrian takes every punch like a champ — sits there with the same calm and collected face he uses for business meetings, conference calls. The moment Jax starts harping on Kamilah, though, he looks ready for a fight.

Whether it’s the vampire feud or the rush of testosterone Nadya can’t tell — either way something’s gonna give, and soon.

So she gives first.

“Okay, Jax. Cool. We’ll keep that in mind.” _Do not. Do not. Do not dare start something…_

Adrian doesn’t. Jax turns away. No resolution is still better than conflict in her book.

The silence that follows is just plain weird. Even Lily — a master in the art of distraction-by-small-talk — starts trying to teach herself to whistle.

Finally Mari taps her girlfriend off of her; says more with her eyes than her words and Lily gives a sheepish _“well, we’ve got work to do so…”_ to signal their hasty departure.

“You guys aren’t really going to run, are you?” Nadya surprises herself by asking.

She wouldn’t blame them if they did. It’s the smart thing, the tactical thing to do; try and get as far from the Council’s influence as possible and regroup; gather their strength then return to kick butt ten-fold.

Adrian sighs. “Nadya, please understand —”

He falls silent when Kamilah holds up a hand. The woman wets her bottom lip and when she speaks her words are, as ever, carefully chosen.

“Only once in my life have I turned tail to fight another day. At the time it was better to lose the battle for the sake of the war. And such cowardice has haunted me ever since.

_“This_ is not a war — this is a mad scramble for power by creatures who think they understand what power truly is. I—we—will show them what it means to hold _real _power; and what happens to those who dare cross it.”

And then there were two.

Whether Adrian takes in the room around them because of natural curiosity or because he can’t look Nadya in the eyes — it doesn’t matter. She’s suddenly entranced by the way her hands look in her lap anyway.

She wants to go after Kamilah so bad but loyalty to Adrian keeps her seated right where she is. Doesn’t stop her from yearning, fleeting looks in the direction of the hall.

“Go ahead.”

When Nadya looks Adrian is standing; messing with the supposedly _‘perfect’_ look that she and Lily had given him earlier. Less pressed lines and seamless folds; like the real Adrian is being revealed by shedding skin.

She pushes her chair in — goes to follow but Adrian stops her with a gentle hand.

“No, not with me.” He jerks his head aside. “I think it’s best if I do some thinking alone, anyway.”

It makes Nadya scoff. “No way — I’m not letting you go out into the plaza alone.”

“What, do you think I can’t take care of myself or something?”

“Well if the last few days are any evidence…”

“Nadya.”

“What if you’re recognized? What if they try to attack you?”

She’s just making up excuses. They both know it. Just like they both know she wants to take the opportunity he’s giving her but _lord she’s terrified._

“I can take care of myself.” With both hands firmly on her shoulders Adrian looks down into her eyes — just like he used to back at the office. Before she knew he was a vampire; before everything that’s happened. “Right now it looks to me like Kamilah’s the one who needs a little help being taken care of.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he says it; his approval. Not that she needed it but it definitely doesn’t hurt.

“Be careful, promise?”

“Of course.”

“No, you have to _promise.”_

She slips between his hands and wraps him in a tight hug. Not warm or cozy; he’s solid. And that’s what she’s grown to count on more than anything else. Because if he’s solid that means he’s there, and if he’s there that means he’s safe — that means she helped.

“Promise?” Nadya asks in a whisper.

“I promise.”

* * *

Kamilah’s stagnant figure in the middle of the hallway catches her off guard. Makes Nadya wonder if she made the wrong choice in trying now, of all times, to try and get the vampiress to talk.

She doesn’t have to clear her throat. Kamilah probably can’t hear anything over the thundering of her heartbeat.

“I…” Kamilah’s voice falters and doesn’t that set Nadya on edge, “I realized I have nowhere to…”

It’s not just Adrian who has lost everything in all this. Even if Kamilah chose to stay above ground the entire Council would be on her in an instant. Who else would break all the rules to rescue him if not for her?

She left to find some peace but there’s no peace to be found in a home that isn’t hers.

At her side Nadya gingerly takes Kamilah’s hand in hers — keeps it chaste; like a light at the end of a tunnel. “Here, this way.” And Kamilah follows.

She closes the door to Lily’s room behind them. Roommates again — until the end probably. But she knows her best friend wouldn’t mind sharing the space if only to help wash that lost look off of Kamilah’s normally confident features.

At least she looks a little bit like herself when her nose crinkles at the sight of Lily’s mess.

“It’s no penthouse condo, but…”

“No,” Kamilah contradicts, “no it… it is more than I have, and that is more than enough.”

Nadya rubs her hands over her bare arms quickly before common sense kicks in — brings her to the small and ancient space heater in the corner which comes to life with only a little fight.

Kamilah watches with unnerving focus. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah. Living underground must be great when you can’t feel the chill but some of us are still alive.” She tries to laugh — to make it a joke. Kamilah must not find it that funny.

The longer they stand the more the space between them feels less like a room and more like a chasm. One Nadya isn’t sure she can leap across.

Her dumb rambling mode kicks in in tandem with what Kamilah’s been holding back.

“So there’s this guy who sells —”

“We never discussed what happened —”

It’s so quiet a pin dropping could shatter someone’s eardrum.

“You—uh—You go first.” Nadya takes up the edge of the bed.

The woman in front of her isn’t the Kamilah she’s used to; still full of things unsaid as always but rather than picking them apart piece-by-piece and taking command she seems unsure. Hesitancy isn’t a good look on her.

“Very well.”

“‘Course.”

“We never discussed what happened in the Council chamber.” _Not what she was hoping Kamilah wanted to talk about._

“I didn’t think we had to. We were both there.”

“You know it isn’t the trial I’m referring to.”

Yeah, she knows. She just doesn’t want to think about it. Thinks if she ignores it for long enough maybe it just never happened. That could be said about a lot of things that’ve gone down lately.

There’s a smooth finger under her chin and it brings her to look up; Kamilah suddenly closer than close. The overhead lightbulb hidden just behind her head casts her in a halo of light.

“Tell me what you know.”

“I… I can’t.” _If I do you’ll pull away from me._

“It may be difficult to recall, but please try.”

“No, I physically can’t.” _You’ll think there’s something wrong with me. I think there’s something wrong with me._

“I don’t believe you.”

“Kamilah…” _Kamilah…_

“Nadya, I beg of you.”

She’s so scared her mind doesn’t automatically slide into the gutter and that says everything. Makes Nadya swallow down the bile rising in the back of her throat. She closes her eyes.

It’s not like pulling up a dream — struggling to remember things beyond the strange details that make dreaming fun. No… it’s like unlocking a steel safe. It’s like opening a dam. _No._

It’s _breaking _a dam.

And with nothing to hold them back the floodwaters rush forward in a churning mass of black water. Fill the room and seep into her lungs in their desperate attempt to consume every inch of her existence. The words burst from her. Tumble over one another giddy with freedom and eager to see the world beyond.

She tells Kamilah about the voices outside Marcel’s library. About the Painting within. Tries to conjure up some definition — old or new — to explain the emotion she felt when looking at it but it falls flat so she just moves on.

On to the nightmares that came after. The sticky, wet feeling of blood coating her body that she can’t scrub away no matter how hard she tries. Knowing the taste of Kamilah’s lips with the breath of a dying man still lingering on the tip of her tongue. Feeling victory and rage and the lust of the kill that she should never _ever _have to feel to begin with. Seeing Adrian as _Soldier _and Kamilah as _Queen._

“And when you told Jax —” how Kamilah can understand her through her blubbering tears and pain she doesn’t know; is just thankful she’s not being asked to keep herself together, “— when you told him _‘never again’_ I knew. I knew what you meant. I could see it.”

“Tell me what you saw.”

“The corpses and the ash. The blood on your faces but… but it wasn’t their blood. It was yours — your kind.”

“Other vampires.”

“Mm,” she nods, “and the… the pain of the fallen kingdom and the promise of the new one. _His _promise.” Please dear god don’t make me say his name.

Kamilah doesn’t; she’s not doing a lot of things which is the scary part. Hovers over her now more of a demon behind firelight than anything with a holy halo and at first Nadya was glad it shadowed the look in Kamilah’s eyes but now she’s afraid of what’s being hidden; the revulsion — the judgment.

“And the throne?”

Even the word ignites a white-hot pain in her skull. Makes Nadya press the heels of her palms against her temples and clench her teeth and beg for it to end. She knows how to make it stop — she just doesn’t want to do it. Because talking about it makes it real. More than that it hurts Kamilah.

Cool ice brushes beads of sweat aside; moves little wisps of hair out of her eyes. Kamilah’s touch is still soft. Kind.

“It was his. His throne, his empire, his kingdom and crown and… and you took it all away.”

Nadya watches her own trembling hand reach up and cup the curve of Kamilah’s cheek. “You took away everything he built. Threw it back in his face. He built you a dynasty and you drowned it in his blood.”

Even if everything else is a fever-dream; a hallucination brought on by god-knows-what to torture her and proven to be nothing more than the result of a lifetime of bad choices and a crazy imagination… she’s certain in that. Certain in the only steady words she’s managed so far.

She knows it. Kamilah knows it too.

The same cold covers Nadya’s hand; not ice but the vampire’s touch. Holds her there; holds them connected in an intimacy she isn’t sure she deserves.

“I’m scared —” an exhale, _“— KamilahI’msoscared.”_

If Kamilah pulls away Nadya isn’t sure what would become of her. She feels incorporeal — nonexistent. Like a voice on the wind narrating the story but without a place in it.

But she stays. She keeps Nadya grounded. Roots her to the earth until she has the energy to find her body on her own.

_What happens now?_

Her body screams loud enough for Kamilah to hear — thankful she doesn’t have to physically ask.

“The things you have endured alone… why did you not share them; not even with your friend? Did you think she wouldn’t believe you?”

“No, she would…”

“Then why?”

Nadya takes in a breath so deep her lungs strain against capacity. The pain calms her racing mind.

“Because saying it aloud made it real. And I didn’t want it to be real.”

Suddenly the overhead light blinds her and Nadya throws the back of her hand over her eyes. Feels the place where Kamilah and her meet move down until she can see the woman on bended knee.

“You know more about events long gone than anyone left alive. Not just of Adrian, of the Council, of… of myself…” She fights down her words — something exists she isn’t yet ready to say. “You know of things Adrian and I would never have you know for fear you would see our true monstrosity.”

“What? Kamilah—no—I—”

A finger presses to her lips. “I see your pain, Nadya. I see what this burden has done to you. And I’m sorry — I’ve failed you. I can’t give you your answers when there are none to give.”

“You don’t know what’s wrong with me?” Kamilah shakes her head. Nadya’s heart sinks — there goes the small grain of hope she had that in her centuries of life Kamilah might know something.

Kamilah’s rueful laugh takes them both by surprise. “Of all the vampires for you to endure the memories of, too. I knew him better than anyone and even I would not suffer what lurked around in his twisted mind.”

“… Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Their eyes meet sharply. Kamilah eases herself back onto the bed beside Nadya and, in a completely unprompted display of affection, coaxes her to lay on her side with her head in the woman’s lap.

“Forgive me. I spoke without thinking.”

“It’s okay,” if this is Kamilah’s idea of apologizing she’s so happy to forgive her. “There’s just one thing.”

“Hm?”

“If you think you see me blushing it’s — well I’m not. I know it looks like I am but it’s just the crying. Crying makes me blush.”

She looks up to an amused sparkle in the woman’s eyes. The feeling of sharp nails carding through her scalp is soothing — a constant motion that doesn’t require remembering or crying or trying to speak through the pain. She basks in it selfishly.

“Which is it,” muses Kamilah, “are you not blushing, or are you blushing but from the tears?”

While Nadya gapes like a trout the figure above her seizes advantage of the opportunity. Leans down and lets cold lips linger on her feverish brow.

“Initially I found your expressions overzealous and unnecessary,” comes a whisper in Nadya’s ear, “but now I think I’ve become fond of their _dramatiquement.”_

“Well I am a bit of an acquired taste.”

“Not by Adrian’s description.”

Every thought both good and bad flies out her ears at that — gives her brain less distraction and lets it focus on the dusting trail Kamilah creates down to the dip of her chin. Her throat just beyond.

Nadya holds her breath. Stares wide-eyed up at the uncovered light until she doesn’t have to blink to see spots and then some. Just waits.

And though her body tenses in the anticipation of pain Kamilah isn’t deterred — lands a kiss to the hollow near her chin before righting herself back above.

“Breathe, Nadya.”

She obeys a little too enthusiastically. At least one of them finds it funny.

“God, I’m such a soggy pancake.” Probably not the thing to say. Who explains that to someone who was alive before pancakes even existed? Not that it stops her rambling from trying. “It’s — uh — Lily and I, we —”

“Say no more.”

“Yup, good idea.”

But now the vampire’s interest is piqued. “Care to explain _why _you are… as you said?”

_No, she’d really not care to in the slightest._

“Because this is definitely not when I had in mind when we came in here.”

The nails stop mid-stroke. It takes Nadya way too long to realize they won’t start again until she continues. If Kamilah knows her weak spots already she’s doomed — no question.

She squirms but complies; “I guess I just… we went into the trial but kissed before that and I thought, you know, with Adrian out of immediate danger we might take the time to — you know — just…”

“Sleep together again?”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Not outwardly. Ah ah —” before Nadya can turn away in shame Kamilah’s grip tightens in her hair; keeps her right where she’s wanted, “— did I say you could move?”

_How the hell does someone answer something like that?_ “N—o…?”

“Correct. Stay.”

She stays. _Oh boy does she stay._

Over her head Kamilah looks thoughtful. Hums so low it’s a catlike purr while she loses herself in her thoughts and Nadya’s hair.

“Though we are out of the _immediate _danger, it would be best to wait until we can fully dedicate a time to discuss what happened before the trial.”

And because it isn’t the _‘making you quiver in orgasm was fun but doesn’t bear repeating’_ she was expecting Nadya stops breathing again. This time, though, it’s a good thing.

“I’d like that.”

Kamilah drags a fingertip over the round of her cheek. “I would as well.”

* * *

She’s seen the kind of strength older vampires can have; seen Kamilah lift a stone slab like it was nothing and the power of the Council combined fighting off a wall of greying snarling Ferals.

But all of the vampires — at least the ones she’s met — in the Shadow Den seem pretty new to the life. Maricruz is the oldest around as far as she’s aware. And if older vampires somehow wander into the strange life of the outcasts they likely don’t stay long.

So it makes her wonder just how many of the Shadow Den’s loyal gathered together to help move the old and worn stone fountain from the surface down below to the center of the plaza. And did they know, heave-hoing together, what their teamwork was going to be used for?

When asked why the plaza’s community avoided even looking at the fountain and the shrine it had become, Lily had told her that it was a thing of respect; “Some of them don’t want to look at familiar faces,” she’s said, “and those who don’t know anyone just feel uncomfortable seeing the dead. They might not be human anymore but that… that stays with them — us.”

Which means Nadya isn’t surprised to find the end of the plaza occupied by the fountain’s importance mostly empty. She’s gotten used to it.

Adrian hasn’t.

It must be daytime up top; stalls unoccupied and vendors packed away for their hours of sleep. She’s struggling keeping a body clock these days but habit is habit.

The center piece of the fountain must once have been three or more people; their humanoid shapes remain but the rest has been chipped away or eroded from the seasons. Discolor and rust still runs freely where water used to pour. The base of the fountain is wide and still empty; sprawls outward to a short stone wall that acts as a rim.

It’s just as ramshackle as the rest of the Den but that doesn’t stop it from looking out of place. More like it belongs in a Roman ruin than underneath the old subway tunnels of Manhattan.

“Can I join you?”

Adrian doesn’t say anything — which isn’t a no — so Nadya steps over the rim and sets herself on the rim beside him.

The light of dozens of candles flicker in his eyes. _It’s how he would look in a church,_ Nadya thinks. Can’t get the image out of her mind once she sees it. Adrian in the place of a traditional mourner in front of the rows of candles placed for the memories of the dead.

There’s no breeze to make the little flames whip on their wicks. They burn constant and bright. Illuminate the polaroids, drawings, names written in both delicate cursive and angry blocked marker.

These are the fallen.

And the longer Nadya looks at him the more he changes; the more Adrian takes on each and every name, face, and candle in their memory on as his own burden.

What does someone _say _to that?

“I recognize a few of these faces.”

Adrian starts for her. Starts in the worst way possible and it makes her heart sink because that’s exactly what she didn’t want to her. But he wants to talk about it. Maybe he needs to.

Nadya places her hand over his; silent permission that he takes.

“When we first began the Council we knew there would be difficulty making things just; making them… _amenable _for all those involved. Not just because we were demanding those who followed us to change their entire way of life — but because we were still on the heels of… of the worst possible scenario. I won’t deny that on some level we were being led by our fear to force change. Or at least I was…”

She squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to, Nadya.”

“But to me?”

He tears himself away from the memorial; fixes his watery eyes on her with determination.

“I think you’re the only person who might really understand.”

“Why?”

“You’ve seen both sides. You have loved ones on both sides.”

“So, what,” she snorts, “I’m Switzerland for vampires?” Bad timing for any joke. He doesn’t laugh — but doesn’t pull away.

Adrian just goes back to torturing himself with every addition to the fountain of the lost.

“We had bigger Clans at first. New York was booming, you know? It still is. But they became too hard to manage. Too many people kept toeing the line and there comes a time when _‘making an example’_ becomes just pure punishment for punishment’s sake.

“So we went down, and down… to the number we have now. It was enough. Small; strict in the eyes of some like Marcel or the Families in the South, but enough. And we made it clear that if our laws weren’t to your liking then you could leave and find a living somewhere else.”

“But —” She stops herself; literally bites her tongue. It’s not her place to argue. She doesn’t know what it must have been like to make those choices.

Only Adrian’s feeling a little masochistic at the moment so he urges her to continue with a look.

She sighs — tries again; “But… well, think about how that sounds, Adrian. You’re telling people to agree to your terms or leave what might be the only lives they’ve ever known; the only place they’ve ever lived.”

“If they wanted to Turn that badly then they would have to live with the risks and consequences.”

“But you’re acting like everyone has that choice.” It was a naive way of thinking and maybe something she would still think if not for Lily — having to make that choice for someone was the hardest in the world. It makes her think of Liv, and the little girl Jax doted on named Lulu, and Jeremy who sells the roasted nuts. None of them had a choice.

And those were only the ones she’d met.

“I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have —”

“No, you’re right. And maybe that kind of thinking would have helped things change earlier… when they needed to. Not now when it feels like it’s too late.”

Both of Nadya’s hands on his forces Adrian to drag himself away from his self-imposed punishment of witness again. She feels for him — feels _with _him — but refuses to let him wallow here in self-pity.

“I refuse to let you wallow here in self-pity,” says Nadya because sometimes she just can’t not speak her mind, “because it’s not too late. You can make changes.”

“But all the casualties…”

“You can’t bring them back; no. But you can make sure they don’t need to bring down another one of these things when they run out of space.”

It gets the barest quirk at the corner of his lips. Better than nothing. Nadya reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes — anything less than Wall Street is not his look and that’s just the fact of the matter.

She continues; “You want to help, Adrian. That’s _so _important. And you will help, too, trust me on that. Only when your name is cleared and you’re safe, though.”

His glance is harrowed with a worry he works hard to keep below the surface. “You make it sound simple. It won’t be — please know that.”

“Oh trust me — I do,” _god she does,_ “but at this point if I don’t try to lighten the mood then no one will, and imagining you all trying to get this done with a big dark cloud over your heads is honestly giving me massive anxiety.”

Because he’s Adrian he turns a simple hand-hold in solidarity into putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in close against him. She snakes her arm around his waist and does the same — lets the world know there shouldn’t even be an atom of space between them. 

When things are better — when things are right again — this is how it should be. How it will be.

“There are days when I regret ever bringing you into my world Nadya,” whispers Adrian against her hair, “because you’re human — so wonderfully human — and you shouldn’t have to see the ugly parts of the world like this. You shouldn’t be in danger like this.”

It takes her a second to find something to grab onto but she manages to pinch his side as hard as she can. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Shut up and stop thinking like that. I chose this — remember? I chose to know.”

“And I thank whatever gods there are that you did.”

They pull back and exchange familiar smiles. “Really?”

“I don’t think I would have made it this far without you; so yes.”

“Just consider me your lucky charm.” It might not be the biggest smile in the world but it’s not as hard to muster this time around.

Nadya stands and pulls him up by his hand; makes sure he doesn’t trip over the fountain rim and tugs even harder so he doesn’t look back one last time. “Come on — we have a game plan to get to.”

“Wait, don’t we have to actually plan first?”

“Yeah yeah, that too.”

* * *

It’s hard for Nadya to give her presentation with even a percentage of her usual flair without the proper materials. But Lily could only find her markers in three different colors and while she’d rather make use of the Raines Corp. brilliant smartboard she makes do with a flattened cardboard box and extra imagination.

With everything scribbled down, bullet-pointed, and circled for extra emphasis she caps her marker for a final time and rounds on the balls of her feet to face the captive audience.

“So… what do we think?”

Jax scoffs and slips lower into his chair. “I know what I think.” He has to quickly duck a punch from Lily, who reaches over Maricruz to do it, and while Nadya’s thankful for the support she has to shake her head.

“No no, we need to be honest about this or it’ll never work. Go ahead, Jax.”

He straightens. “It’s a crazy, dumb plan. And it doesn’t even get us to the people we need to get to.”

“Yeah, I dunno _chica _— I think he has a point,” Mari shrugs beside him, “why would we go after these small fish instead of the big catch? Sure we’re not enough numbers to take on their whole Clans but, I dunno, get them all in one room and we’d probably hold our own pretty well.”

She gets it, she does, but Nadya’s already gone over everything three times; a feat to be memorialized taking into account her lack of coffee the last few nights.

“One more time — I’m only saying this _one more time!”_ She goes to smack a marker against her makeshift board and instead it goes flying into the corner of the room.

“At the trial everything was going pretty decent — barring, uh, Adrian being in a torture chair — until two key things happened. One: using Nicole as his key witness. Both of them lied about having documents and evidence and whatever they needed to make Adrian look bad, which means they’re in it together. Vega knew Nicole’s testimony would be taken seriously because of her status in the company —”

“— and because of our longstanding history together.” Adrian finishes for her; grits his teeth and she can hear the crack and grind of his knuckles as he keeps himself in check.

“Exactly. And if they’re in cahoots — _Lily stop laughing_ — then that means Vega’s promised Nicole something. We need to find out what that is.”

“Probably something to dislodge the stick from her…”

_“Lily!”_

She holds up her hands in a dramatic claim of innocence; doesn’t stop from high-fiving Mari.

After a sigh Nadya continues; “Then there’s the Trinity. I’m sorry, but you vanish for almost a century and then just so happen to reappear at the same party that gets attacked, and come forward as witnesses against a guy you don’t even know for no obvious reason because — what — you’re good-hearted people? Nope; I’m not buying it.

“They’re in league with Vega somehow. I don’t even want to start thinking about how, or why, or whatever, but they lied about Adrian’s alibi and that’s what made Vega’s case in the end. So if we find out _why _they lied and what they’re getting out of it we might be able to… I dunno; re-negotiate? Or change their minds, or something.”

“But we’re not doing that for Nicole, right?”

“Not a chance.”

Kamilah switches her crossed legs and stares at the board with a pensive frown. “While a sound theory — it operates under a great deal many assumptions. And they will not take lightly to accusations without proof.”

“Well we may be a little short on proof, but I’ve got plenty of enthusiasm and I find that usually makes up for most things.” For example: the fact that she’s utterly terrified to see Valdas and Isseya again; yet still continues on with enthusiasm despite the fear.

Mari raises her hand — humoring her only just since she doesn’t wait before speaking. “So who do we pin down first?”

“Ah, yes, see, that’s the problem. One’s gonna alert the other no matter what — Vega and the Council too no doubt — so…”

“So we divide and conquer.”

All eyes on Adrian gravely rubbing his chin. “It isn’t an ideal plan but this isn’t an ideal situation. At least if we get at both on separate fronts we can buy ourselves just enough time to skip town should things go badly.”

Kamilah nods. “Agreed.”

“So who goes where?” asks Nadya.

“As much as I’d like to confront Nicole about what she’s done I don’t want to risk being seen entering the building. She knows the ins and outs of that place just as well as I do — any underground entrance will be covered during the day and at night I’ve no doubt she’s got Clan backup. Kamilah, Nadya — you two would be in the same danger.”

“Well that solves it quickly —” Lily starts pointing fingers, “— Team Clanless gets to B-and-E Raines Corp. again and Team Partycrashers go after the rich bitches.”

Out of all the stunned faces it’s Adrian who recovers first. “Team… _what?”_

“It was spur of the moment. I’ll think of something better.”

But it’s a sound idea — makes the most sense. There’s no way she’s letting Adrian confront the Trinity alone; even if she has to swallow down the memory of Isseya’s clawed hand around her throat.

“We have a plan then.” Nadya tries not to sound so hesitant — either shares the feeling with everyone else or they’re content to ignore it for her.

Jax glances at Lily’s watch. “Four in the afternoon — we’ve got three hours to prepare what we can. We meet at the van and split once we’re above ground…” He trails off, seems unsure if he should keep going — does anyway. “Should we make a plan for after; set up a rendezvous point?”

Nobody answers. They’re all thinking the same thing: there’s being optimistic and then there’s being foolish — and trying to plan that far ahead is _definitely _foolish.

They go their separate ways yet again. Nadya watches turned backs wade through the tension all the way up to their waists.

_Three hours to overthink everything._ That’s what her brain says; screams it actually.

Then there’s a soft hand on her hip and the familiar smell of Kamilah’s perfume behind her. A thumb stroking under her shirt makes her thoughts fade to whispers. Lips on her neck make her weak in the knees.

Her chin is tilted aside in a kiss and her mind goes blissfully blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end! Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you for reading!


	20. The Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The danger is far from over. Tired of laying low Nadya and the others go on the offensive. Nadya, Adrian, and Kamilah go to the Musea Sanguis to confront the Trinity about the trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter content warnings:** language, violence, blood, dissociation

Adrian wants to be the one to take the risk but Kamilah forbids it. And when he goes to do it behind her back anyway she gets to it first.

“I wish you would just trust me sometimes, Kamilah. I know which members of my Clan will keep my secret.”

“It was a greater risk on your part. It’s done — leave it at that.”

The old phone vibrates in her hand. She glances at the first and only message it will ever receive before making quick work of snapping the SIM and tossing the battery and mobile in two different ponds.

“There’s a shred of luck in our favor,” she starts a brisk pace down the park path — doesn’t wait for Adrian and Nadya to catch up, “as they’re still in town.”

“Good — we can grab a taxi to their hotel. I don’t think we have to worry about one driver.”

“They aren’t at their hotel, Adrian. They’re at the _Musea.”_

Adrian mutters something under his breath Nadya can’t quite catch. But from context whatever it is it’s not a good thing. “So much for luck.”

“I’m inclined to agree. Despite his position in my Clan I’ve never found Jameson to be the most loyal.”

“He’s a good man, Kamilah. Maybe we can convince him that we’re only seeking justice.”

“I… I’m unsure of how he’ll respond.”

“Any chance we won’t run into him?”

“About as much chance as we would in the sunlight.”

The _Musea Sanguis_ is a historian’s heaven and hell. Filled to the brim with artifacts and accounts from every period and civilization collected in one place not only for their study but also for their safekeeping. But unlike every other collection that would boast the same claims the one at the _Musea _is special in that it holds the mystical ‘truth’ everyone searches for.

Werewolf packs roaming the New World before Columbus ever stepped on her soil. Witches sealing deals with Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Vampire soldiers in every war and on every side. The _Musea Sanguis_ told the tales forgotten and erased in the name of preserving the shadows and their secrets.

A necessary evil.

“So why would the Trinity come here now?”

Kamilah doesn’t answer; fixates on finding something hidden — a panel made to look like the white outer brickwork that slides aside to reveal a keypad.

Adrian shrugs. “Probably nostalgia; since the Ball brought them out of hiding. They’ve contributed to the _Musea _for centuries.”

“Wait — that doesn’t make sense.”

“The _Musea _is wherever the collection goes. New York is just its most recent home.”

_Musea_ or not — Nadya had no idea she’d be able to cross _‘Break into a Secret Museum Within the Met’_ off her bucket list. She’d have to add it first.

Kamilah punches in the final digit in a sequence and the maintenance door unlocks with a _thunk _of metal. The part of Nadya that was forced to endure the _Heist of Monaco_ miniseries with Lily for thirteen hours straight knows this is too easy. Waits for something to jump out of the blackness when Kamilah opens the door and ushers them inside.

Or maybe life just isn’t a television minidrama.

The door closes behind them and darkness swallows them whole.

* * *

It’s beautiful, magnificent — ancient too but there are so many words she could use and Nadya quickly gives up trying to find them all because she’d need to go to another part of the gallery for a dictionary.

The temptation to stop and bask in the wonder of strange objects in glass cases is hard to ignore. Then she sees Adrian five steps ahead and rushes to catch up to his and Kamilah’s long strides.

There’ll be time to look at everything later. When everyone is safe.

“I can feel them,” Kamilah hisses; jerks her head towards an archway at the end of a turn, “quickly.”

The arch is rough and worn sandstone — as much an exhibit as anything under a podium or on a shelf. The exhibit’s wallpaper peels away from it; recoils from history it knows it ought not touch. If once there were engravings in the carved sides they’ve since faded with time.

Nadya lets herself indulge — brushes her fingertips along the porous surface as they pass.

_“Peculiar, in fact, that as I stand before you and confess my intentions to rid myself of the pest Hydarnes, that a more loyal soldier would attempt to run me through for my wicked tongue. Yet there you stand; immobile.”_

_“Not immobile —_ Immortal. _I know my place.”_

_“Ah, but that is the great lie. So called_ ‘Immortals’ _walking among men… yet a blade would fell you as easily as it would a commoner.”_

_“Then you underestimate me, Augustine.”_

_“Perhaps I do, Valdemaras… Perhaps I do…”_

“Nadya?”

She’s in two places at once. There’s the world in front of her; the stone pressing into her nails and feet rooted to the floor and Adrian and Kamilah turned back towards her with matching looks of confusion and worry.

Then there’s the archway; cut in sharp definition and painted vibrant to match the late King Cyrus’ famed conquests and with a familiar face glaring at her from across the room that both is and isn’t there.

She blinks rapidly — takes the choice away from her mind in where it wants to reside and forces it to focus on the here and now. To Adrian who is stopped before he can advance on her.

He looks down to Kamilah’s hand — confused.

“Let it be.” She doesn’t give him the chance to speak. But the look she gives Nadya is a knowing one. And isn’t that a big relief.

Kamilah releases him, gestures ahead. “They’re in the atrium beyond. Scout to see if Jameson is near. We won’t have long.”

Even when Nadya puts on her best _‘I’m not having strange visions I can’t explain and everything is fine’_ face he doesn’t buy it.

“Are you…?”

“I’m okay. I promise.” Squeezing his hand. “Go.”

When he’s three bookshelves away Nadya goes to speak — finds herself silenced by Kamilah’s finger over her lips. They watch Adrian pass three more shelves and round a corner.

“What did you see?”

But it’s already fading — another in a long list of forgotten dreams. “It’s hazy…”

“Try Nadya, please.” And she doesn’t like the insistence in Kamilah’s voice only because it’s heartbreaking and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. “Breathe deep and try.”

She breathes. Breathes again, deep this time. Feels the gritty sand from the arch under her nails.

“It was… it was Valdas — or… his other name.”

“Valdemaras?”

Nadya nods. “Mm. Something about… I think I was him, again. I didn’t see him. Me. My face.”

But putting it into words is like painting without paint; or a brush or a canvas. She can mimic the motions and mouth words soundlessly but nothing is right.

“Come on. Adrian needs us.” She knows Kamilah and knows Kamilah won’t let it go. So she pushes the issue aside by evading the hand that moves her way and practically sprints to join Adrian around the corner. Leaves Kamilah behind only because looking back at her face is too much pain for her to focus on just then.

She comes to an abrupt stop when she turns and collides straight into Adrian’s back.

“Ow!” He doesn’t budge. More throbbing pain for her — hooray.

When the ringing in her ears stops Nadya catches a honey-sweet voice in laughter. It echoes off the domed ceiling and travels around the room like a malevolent breeze.

_“There_ she is. Where Adrian Raines goes one can be sure his human toy follows close behind. But she isn’t all there is, is she? No… I can feel a familiar one close. Kamilah — surely you aren’t so naive as to try _hiding. _You’re better than that… or maybe you aren’t.”

But Kamilah isn’t hiding. She comes up right behind Nadya and coaxes Adrian forward with a hand at his back.

Isseya’s laughter continues from where she lounges on an old velveteen chaise; one of many such places to sit scattered around the vast and sparsely-filled room.

In fact as Nadya looks around there’s nothing to take up the decorative marble floor at all. The attraction lies instead in a dozen paintings hung on the walls. Each given a wide berth from the other.

Even with her glasses she can’t see the details of some at the far end of the gallery — but she doesn’t have to _see _them. She can _hear _them just fine.

Hear their voices, whispers, screams and cries of lust and loss rise and fall in tides. Hear to her left the clatter of steel and whinnying cry of warhorses as their hoofs pound a skull to dust. Hear to her right the rustle of thick curtained veils and the damp squelching of a dagger in the back.

Just as Kamilah comes beside her Nadya’s legs give way — stopped from collapsing to the ground only by the grace of Kamilah’s supernatural speed.

She claps her hands over her ears and opens her mouth in a silent scream. Feels tears sting her eyes and Adrian’s hands join in holding her up.

Their mouths are moving; her protectors trying in vain to find the source of her agony. She can’t hear a word over them.

“It seems you were right again, my love.”

Like someone’s found the dial in her mind the voices and their noises dim until they’re dull and in the background; a movie on in another room.

With bleary tear-filled vision Nadya looks up, up — focuses on the figure with his back turned to them. His attention unable to be ripped away from the painting as tall as he and a head more.

“How much did we bet?” asks Valdas in a calm echo. He turns and begins a leisurely stroll towards Isseya’s seat.

“Thirty-seven.”

“Shame — but I knew I couldn’t be wrong. I’ll be benevolent this time; you can pick my prizes when we return home.”

It takes everything inside her, which isn’t much left at this point, but Nadya musters up enough of her own voice to speak.

“Wh—What’s… hap-peni—ing… to m-mme…?”

The god-like vampire gives them a fanged grin. Isn’t fazed by anything so weak and unimportant as the snarls Kamilah and Adrian throw his way.

“Something _wonderful.”_

There’s a change in Adrian — she feels it first, is too slow to react — watches him rush the Trinity in a blur. “Whatever you’re doing to her, st—”

Valdas throws Adrian across the room effortlessly; waves his hand as if swatting a fly.

The younger vampire’s body collides into a stone pillar with a crunch. He falls to the ground limp but conscious. Struggles to stand.

“Adrian stop.” A shudder overtakes her as the voices crescendo again but Kamilah’s ready this time; holds her tight. “We did not come here to fight you, _Domine._ This is needless torture!”

Isseya snarls. “Is that sympathy, Kamilah? From _you _of all vampires? It’s disgusting.”

“She is an innocent.”

“She is beloved by that cur,” Isseya throws a gesture as Adrian struggles to stand, “and _nothing _he does is innocent.”

Her words fall flat as her lover rests his hand on her shoulder. “Isseya — calm yourself. Look in her eyes. She doesn’t know what she holds in her grasp.”

In silence something dawns on the wicked woman’s face — it falls into pity and scorn. “That’s her own fault.”

“I don’t disagree.”

Enough. It’s too much. _Make it stop!_ “Make it-t stop, Kamilah, please…”

“Valdas!”

Whether he’s hesitating because he relishes her pain or because the idea of doing anything for Kamilah disgusts him — it doesn’t matter. Every passing second the voices and sounds clash and collide together and scalding pain stings at her temples.

Then a blink. That’s all it takes for the ancient vampire to cross the room and cup her cheeks in his large palms. She remembers now; recognizes the same face from the backs of her eyelids through the archway. The same features unchanged but now hardened by eternity.

“No!” Adrian cries. Nearly collapses in his haste to separate them but Isseya yanks him back by the throat with an almost feral grin. “Let go of — get away from her! Kamilah! Kamilah do something!”

She does. Looks into Valdas’ red eyes and sees something there Nadya can’t understand.

She doesn’t pull Nadya away from his grasp. Lets it be.

“Kamilah!”

“Trust me, Adrian, please!” And she asks the same thing of Nadya in silence.

_Trust me. Please, trust me._

_She does._ Even when it feels like the noises around her are splitting her skull into fragments she does. When Valdas places two fingers on each temple she does.

There’s a vaguely familiar tugging in her gut — then nothing at all. No noise, no pain, no air on her face or sweat on her brow. There is blackness and a void and the feeling of blood pounding in her temples and roots growing out from the tips of her fingers and toes…

… then it’s gone.

Valdas stays close — she can smell the spice of his clothes. And something deeper than that… two thousand sheer veils hovering between them that she can brush away with a mere thought.

She can see the hall with her eyes closed; feel Kamilah and the leaden weight of her years and Adrian’s, too, the same but different in a way that can’t be defined. Nadya feels all the organs in her body yearning towards a brightness she can only call _‘devotion’_ at the other end of the room.

_So much blood, so bright…_

But around her—around _them_—the world is empty. Dark and dim; filled with nothing but feathers that arrive on one wind and vanish on the next. The fragility of human life crumbling to a fine powder underneath their touch.

The moon was once bright but no longer holds the same appeal. In a world without cities or smog or the fake light of mankind there was once a forest bathed in the light of the endless stars. And in that forest there was a lover.

But that lover is gone now.

_Right?_

Nadya inhales and begins to plummet back down — flew up to the moon but wasn’t close enough to touch. Eternity rushes back within her, roots withered and dried and rotting away from her stems. The forest too gone in a single second.

When she opens her eyes the noises are silent. The hall is just a hall — startlingly empty for the crowd and clutter of the shelves they passed.

A rough thumb strokes her cheekbone and brings her back to herself. Causes Nadya to look up into Valdas’ golden eyes. She struggles to catch her breath.

Kamilah strokes her hair — tries and fails to keep the worry from her voice.

“Nadya — are you all right?”

She replies with a nod. Can’t — or maybe just doesn’t want to — tear her eyes away from the man before her.

“You’re so alone…” So many voices have tried to make a home in her head that Nadya doesn’t recognize her own right away. “You cling to what’s left but beyond her there’s… there’s _nothing.”_

Nadya reaches up and mirrors Valdas’ touch with gentle hands. “You’d rather wither as a corpse than live as a man. They’re the same thing to you; both empty and tired.”

“To know completion only to lose it was to be ripped in two.” Valdas says.

“But… having half of yourself must be better than nothing at all.”

“Such a way of thinking is mortal and beyond me. I wish it weren’t.”

“Eternity doesn’t settle for anything less.”

Her own words surprise her. That’s not Nadya’s way of thinking — it’s so pessimistic. But then again it’s not really _her _way of thinking now is it?

Valdas confirms the thought with an appraising look.

“Indeed…” His touch slides down her face — she’s seen what those hands can do; their violence. Yet he cradles her gently. “What I would not give for even a _moment _of your power.”

Power. It breaks the spell they’re under. Makes Nadya push herself away and back into Kamilah’s waiting protection.

_She doesn’t have any power._

Hard eyes glance to where Adrian struggles desperately against Isseya’s impossible hold. The look she gives Valdas is pleading. Earnest.

The man waves his hand — silent permission given — and Adrian is at her side.

“What—did he—Nadya—I—”

She lets him know she’s okay with a touch. But that’s not what they came here to do. That’s not what they’re risking everything for. She’s risking everything for him and not the other way around.

“Why did you lie to the Council?” There’s no room for doubt; no room to oppose her. She knows — he knows that she knows.

She just wish she knew how she knew. And the confusion of it makes her skull want to crack open like an egg.

When Valdas doesn’t answer she tries his lover; “Why did you lie and say you weren’t with Adrian? You knew it would condemn him to death. What do you have against him?”

“Turn your accusatory eye elsewhere, little girl,” Isseya snarls, “perhaps to those you so vehemently protect. The best liars hide in plain sight.”

Adrian tenses. “How did I lie? Whatever Vega’s told you about the Ferals —”

“You think we care about a meager infestation?” Valdas barks a laugh; returns to Isseya’s side with a protective arm around her waist. “We’ve seen the likes of worse and weathered them still.”

“So this isn’t about the Council?”

“We couldn’t care less about you, them, or the problems you make for yourselves.”

“We’ve seen it all before.” agrees Isseya.

But Adrian’s struggling — refuses to let it go. “What you heard at the trial was lies; all of it. Vega fabricated it to point the finger at me. I… I don’t know why. I wish I knew why. But if you tell me why he made you lie then maybe I can figure it out.”

Adrian’s focus is on Valdas like he’s the one who makes all the decisions. But Nadya knows better — watches behind him as a peculiar expression melts onto the priestess’ features. She knows that look.

If it wasn’t for Adrian’s healing blood she’d probably still have bruises from that look.

“Wait —” it dawns on her slowly, “— were you there to testify _for _or _against _Adrian in the first place?”

_Smart girl,_ says the glint in Valdas’ eyes.

“We were called to speak on behalf of the accused — on Adrian’s behalf. And when certain mysteries came to light we decided it was best to extend the same courtesy to him that was given to us.”

Adrian struggles to make sense of it. “What does that even mean? When did I lie to you? What—what _courtesy?”_

But it’s like the more questions he asks the more their silent rage builds. There’s a rope being pulled between them and every confused outcry Adrian gives is another slash of the knife. She doesn’t want to see what will happen when it finally snaps.

If she wasn’t still consumed with the raw feeling Valdas left inside of her — _some parting gift, jerk_ — Nadya knows she’d be able to focus. But her insides are sandpaper and every breath, movement, thought makes them grate together.

Her only solace is that Nadya knows what that feeling is like. Felt it on her own level deep inside when she saw Lily losing her grip on the edge of her life. And again when she turned back against her better judgment to watch her friends leap into a Feral mob to keep her safe.

And again when Adrian was sentenced to death.

_Eternity doesn’t settle._

The burning in her body is grief without an outlet.

How dare he. _Innocent faces hide deceitful minds._ How dare he. _Our lifetimes are haunted by ghosts we dare not give names to — yet this is more._ He is more. _But dare we hope again after all this time?_

Is it better to hope for a spec of eternity than to grieve for the entirety of it?

_“I remember him fondly, Domine, though I would not dare to say my memory is worth more than yours. Strange, though, that Adrian would know nothing of you, your infamy, or your grief. _

_“And to weigh the bulk of his innocence on a creature that could very well be Cynbel’s reflection… We all saw it — even Kamilah felt haunted by his presence. You did the right thing Valdemaras. You did the right thing to he who would rather see you and your love continue to mourn than help you hope.”_

Okay, so, whatever he did to her Nadya very much wants taken back — only because she’s not asleep and not hallucinating and both of those would be preferable to standing where she feels safest in the world yet somehow can’t escape the villainous drawl of Adam Vega.

Even if it answers a lot of unasked questions.

_God, please let her be right about this._

“It wasn’t Adrian who lied to you. It was Vega.”

Adrian frowns. “Nadya, what are you talking about?”

“Just what I was going to ask…” growls Valdas in warning. She can feel the rumble of his voice deep in her own breast.

So Nadya turns her words — and attention — to Isseya. The uncontrollable hurricane. The coin of fate.

“Isseya, please. Think about it. You were so angry that night, right? I made you think about him — the one you lost — and you wanted to —”

“I wanted to rip you limb from limb and feed your organs in little pieces to the pond fish.”

Artful. And shudder-worthy. “E-Exactly. So I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like to sit in that trial and see Cadence. He looked just like him.”

“You saw it too…?” She asks in an almost broken whisper. Digs her nails deep into the meat of her lover’s upper arm; makes blood run down in thin strands that begin to _drip-drip-drip_ on the white floor.

Nadya nods. “I did. And if I did then you can be sure Vega did with me. And I think he realized he could use your grief against you and for himself.”

Kamilah stays silent behind her. She doesn’t need to speak — Nadya knows; finally understands what her ominous warning was meant to serve as at Cadence and Katherine’s departure.

There’s a sliver of doubt, now — something hasty and makeshift to mend the fragile rope between them.

Isseya clings to her partner. “I told you, _I told you…”_

“I know, my love, but —”

“But _that,”_ Nadya interrupts — and keeps going fast before he decides to do something irrational like snap her neck for her insolence, “right there. At the Ball you guys didn’t care who heard you but all of a sudden you were lying in front of the tribunal. You’re better than that — you said so yourself, Valdas.

“You don’t care what happens; to Adrian or to the Council. So why deny it so quickly? What do you gain from lying?”

The man grits his teeth. “If there is a point you ought to reach it. Quickly.”

Her heart begins to race. “Vega talked to you after the Ball didn’t he? He asked you about the questions you asked Cadence and then brought up all those painful memories of your lover, Cynbel.”

“Vega was an old acquaintance.”

“Pretty convenient timing though, huh?”

“He knows better than such insolence. We are —”

“No one cares who you are anymore!” And as the only one in the room with a pulse she really hates how hers keeps skipping every other beat. It’s just not fair. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you guys but the world moved on even if you didn’t. Nobody cares about the Trinity when there aren’t even three of you.

“Look at the facts, Valdas, please. Vega triggered your grief and — and used your hope, Isseya — to make you think Adrian was lying to you.”

“It… makes a modicum of sense.”

Kamilah steps out from behind her. Pensive thoughts and connected dots race through her mind. “If, through some means, Vega knew the man Adrian would call as his witness — knew the resemblance he bore — then it would be easy to reaffirm your doubts once the trial went in his direction.”

“And how would a youth like Vega know we would choose to deny your Adrian’s claims?” Valdas scoffs.

“Because he has moved on with the world, and knows we will always stay true to one thing.” Isseya relinquishes her bloody grip and coaxes her lover to meet her eyes.

“The rest of the world may burn but we will remain through the ages.”

Nadya, Kamilah, and Adrian watch the couple now enveloped in each other; gentle touches to eternal skin and one kiss in the wake of thousands — maybe even millions.

Adrian tries to advance — moves aside the hand she reaches out in warning — and moves slow and purposeful. Aware of the bloodshed just beneath the surface in front of them.

His sincerity makes his voice break. “I know what it’s like to love someone — and to lose them. How it never really goes away and… and how we have all these years to keep feeling the hurt. If I had even an inkling that your partner was still alive I would have done everything in my power to help you reunite.”

“See? Adrian isn’t capable of what Vega claims. He’s, well,” Kamilah looks him up and down, “he’s too damn soft, frankly.”

Isseya is the first to pull away. Keeps herself in the safety of Valdas’ embrace while scrutinizing Adrian and his words.

“I see none of the Godmaker’s ambition in you. Adam was always prone to bold and fantastical claims but that… that was a lie and he knew it.”

_The Godmaker._ Nadya doesn’t want to know. _One problem at a time._

And speaking of problems — time is going to become one if they don’t start hurrying. She can’t let herself drown in the strangeness of what’s happening.

So here she goes. “The fact of the matter is Vega used you both. He used your loyalty to each other and I’d even say he used the memory of your partner to get what he wanted out of you and out of the Council.

“It’s despicable, and wrong, and downright evil. But he’s a career politician so I can’t even pretend I’m surprised…” Nadya shakes her head to get her thoughts back on track. “So please help us get back at him. Help us clear Adrian’s name and figure out who the real person at fault is.”

The couple exchange looks — Nadya’s actually sweating waiting for an answer. Then Kamilah makes… a surprisingly good point.

“If mortal altruism is not enough to spur you forward, then consider the state of your reputation should Adam succeed through manipulating you.”

That makes up their minds. If Nadya’s a little disappointed in them for it she doesn’t let it show. _Something’s better than nothing._

At first glance it looks like Valdas’ focus is elsewhere — perhaps in the symbolic distance. Then Nadya follows his eyes across the hall to a painting alone in the far corner. Tucked away as if to be forgotten on purpose.

A dull throbbing starts in her temples. Not the same roaring pain from before but similar. The longer she looks the stronger it gets.

She doesn’t know how she knows; she simply does. Can hear it in the back of her mind the same way she’s heard everything else this night.

_“What are the chances that this scrap of canvas will survive? Especially if you insist we leave it behind?”_

_“Do you not wish to see what will become of it, my dear? To see if it — like us — persists the ages?”_

_“A grand experiment for a later date. I have a meeting with Parliament at dusk.”_

_“Parliament will not rot from the inside after one day, Holy One. Stay with us. I beseech you.”_

_“You know how to tempt me so.”_

_“I may have an inkling after all these years.”_

_“And for the years yet to come.”_

That’s why they came here. Nadya’s certain. Knows that if she runs across the room she’ll see two familiar faces and the one from the painting at Marcel’s castle. The Trinity.

Another familiar face, too. It lingers in the doorway at the far end of the room; silent, stoic.

She lets herself take in the gaunt features for what feels like the first time. Notes every inch of greying flesh and black veins pulsing out of throbbing temples disfigured with bumps like horns. Stares at lips peeled back and bitten off in the frenzy of hunger; the sharp and almost pristine tip of every fanged tooth.

The yellowing illness around bulging eyes. Pupils narrowed into slits. The way they tremble and struggle to hold her transfixed in their horror and, strangely, their splendor too.

She opens her mouth to speak. Breaks the spell they were held under.

The Feral lets out an unearthly howl and rushes in for the kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes — this _is_ quite a different turn of events than the original BB had but all for good reasons I promise! Comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you for reading!


	21. The Victor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mastermind behind the attack at the Ball is revealed. The Council enters the 21st century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out the End Notes, guys! I'd appreciate it!
> 
> **chapter content warnings:** chasing, blood, death, gore, choking, language

_“What is the meaning of this?!”_

_“You claim to be innocent yet where you go these wretched abominations follow!”_

_“What— do you really think —!”_

_“Save the blame for later! Kill the thing! Nadya — get out of here!”_

She doesn’t want to leave them behind. _Not again, we’re not that lucky,_ her deepest fears scream. But Kamilah isn’t having it — pushes her back towards where they came with a vampire’s strength that makes her stumble to catch her feet.

Nadya hooks her fingers on the doorway and dares a look back.

It’s one Feral versus four vampires. Three of which are over two thousand years old. She isn’t surprised that the attack is over before it really begins — watches Isseya and Kamilah grasp it’s skeletal arms from behind and pull until she hears something break underneath the skin even far away.

Then two more writhing beasts enter; push over each other in their haste to consume, devour.

“KAM—!”

The rest of her scream falls flat. Drowned in a palm against her mouth. A strong arm grasps her from behind and yanks Nadya sharply back against a figure of hard stone.

Nadya looks up into the face of her attacker and screams.

“Now now, Miss Al Jamil,” croons Vega with fangs and fury, “let’s leave them to it. You and I have a polite conversation to finish — _elsewhere.”_

Before she can attempt another futile scream he whisks her into the museum’s depths.

* * *

There’s a fire in her lungs. No — not a fire — an inferno.

Nadya stumbles over a curled edge of a floor rug. Manages to catch herself before she can fall and pushes her screaming limbs against their protests to carry her further through the stacks of the _Musea Sanguis._

_“Ooh, that looked like it hurt. But good save, Miss Al Jamil! Good save indeed!”_

Vega’s laugh taunts her — echoes off the walls and on every shelf she passes.

He’s getting his rocks off; he has from the moment she wrenched herself free of him and took off in an unknown direction. Anywhere, literally anywhere, was better than in the clutches of a man like him.

She knows he can smell her fear. Taste her blood on the tip of his tongue. Hear every raggedy breath she takes and the thudding of her racing footsteps. He’s just giving her a bit of time before killing her.

He wants it to last.

It’s like playing cat and mouse. If the cat were actually a highly-intelligent tiger and the mouse was missing its front paws.

Nadya rounds a stack and presses herself against it — holds her breath until she goes red in the face and the biological will to survive takes over and forces her to inhale. Sweat beads in thick teardrops down her face; into her eyes — makes it impossible to see through the salty sting.

She presses her knuckles into them until it feels like her eyeballs might pop. Blinks away the stars in her vision…

Vega grins down at her not an inch away.

“Boo.”

He could reach out to snatch her but doesn’t. Nadya feels the give of his body as she shoves him back on instinct and resumes her flight towards freedom.

Vega inhales with the whole of his chest and lets out another bellowing laugh.

_“Divine — simply divine! I had no idea how much I missed this — the hunt, the chase, the capture! Run, girl, run!”_

Nothing looks familiar. Nadya can’t tell if she’s just gone in a large square or somehow put herself in a different part of the museum altogether. If she’d been able to keep her eyes open when Vega stole her away… if she’d just tried to fight harder maybe.

But those negative thoughts don’t blend well with the headache pushing its way back between her temples. It’s not a real reason to stop thinking them but if it works; it works.

She just has to get back to Kamilah and Adrian. Or keep running long enough for them to find her. _She just has to hold on._

A left, a right, then another right and Nadya’s suddenly a sitting duck; standing in the middle of the shelves with a dim crystal chandelier gathering dust overhead. Even if she could hear anything over the blood pounding in her chest she doubts Vega would let his steps make any sound.

_Fuck._

In her moment of panic Nadya does the first rational thing that comes to mind: takes a page out of Lily’s book (not that Lily has spent much time on the run from evil villains in real life… that she’s aware of) and tries to think of what she’d do if this weren’t an actual life-or-death situation but instead was just another messy video game filled to the brim with pixels of blood.

There aren’t any health potions in sight. She doesn’t have a transparent map of the _Musea _overhead guiding her. But if she tries really hard Nadya’s pretty sure she can imagine daunting chase music on a loop in the background.

_Breathe Nadi’, breathe._

The imagined echo of Lily in her head is giving some great advice. Makes Nadya stop, focus, and breathe.

_“A vampire is never unarmed. Find a weapon of your own.”_

Something catches the light out of the corner of her eye. Nadya turns and — really can’t believe her luck — gives an audible sigh of relief at the sight of a sword propped up on display in the middle of the path. Held aloft on a podium by two silver brackets carved to in the shape of bird claws and just underneath shorter shelves packed to the brim with tightly-wound scrolls.

She’s an inch away from grabbing the jewel-encrusted hilt when the smallest thread of common sense kicks into overdrive.

That voice did not sound like Lily — not at all.

But… it wasn’t wrong. Right? Vega’s got centuries on her; the strength to snap her like a twig and fangs that would cut through her flesh like butter.

So Nadya takes the sword in hand — in both hands when she struggles with the weight of it; definitely different than Jax’s katana — and tells herself repeatedly that she’s not listening to the feeble croaking horror-movie voice that’s decided to make itself comfortable in her head.

Too many people are doing that lately; chilling out in her noggin like it’s a hostel or a Brooklyn bed’n’breakfast. Only the freeloaders aren’t welcome and definitely aren’t paying rent.

In the distance Nadya spots a familiar ruined archway and sobs in relief.

But she’s not even two steps forward when Vega emerges from a row with feigned surprise. Though it turns real at the weapon she has in hand.

Only he _laughs _at it; doesn’t see a desperate life with a sword but rather a child with a stick. “What exactly are you planning on doing with that,” he croons, “besides dragging it around like dead weight? Do you even know how to use it?”

Nadya’s own ferocity surprises her. “I think _‘stick the asshole with the sharp end’_ is pretty straightforward.”

She holds the weapon between them but Vega steps forward unperturbed.

“I’d applaud your effort if it weren’t so useless. You’ve never used a weapon like that in your life — that much is painfully obvious.” He stops Nadya from raising the blade higher with nothing more than the tip of his finger holding it steady. “In fact I rather doubt you’ll use it now.”

“You’d be mistaken.”

“Then prove it.”

He’s called her bluff. Already her arms start shaking with broadsword’s weight; teeth grit in focus.

“Go on,” he jeers again, “prove yourself. Not to me — I couldn’t care less about one more sack of blood. Yet despite your fragility you’ve managed to enchant Raines — though I can’t say I’m surprised — and Sayeed.”

“Dude—seriously—shut up.”

_“Run him through. Or cut out his tongue for his insolence. But I should think you aren’t quite ready for that kind of violence yet.”_

Vega can’t hear the voice in her head; continues on, “There’s nothing impressive about you. Unless I’m missing the obvious.”

_“Never underestimate an opponent. Show him his mistake.”_

“You shouldn’t underestimate me…” Her voice wavers. Makes Vega bark a laugh.

“When there is so little to underestimate as it is?”

_“Do it. Run him through.”_

“Perhaps there’s a delicacy to you I’ve overlooked. They’ve tasted you; Raines and Sayeed. Haven’t they?”

_“Do it. Do it now!”_

Vega stalks closer; practically presses the sword into himself.

“Maybe I’ll see what I’m missing…”

“Stop! Stay away from me!”

_“Do it! Do it!”_

She’d like to say fear, panic, and a sudden courage she didn’t know she had made her do it; made her swing the sword. But being honest with herself… Nadya isn’t so sure it wasn’t the voice compelling her into action.

If only it could compel her into some talent, too.

The sword swings in a half-arc; wrenches up and away from Vega and tries to carry Nadya along with its weight. But she holds fast. Pants every breath like she’s just run the breadth of Manhattan Island.

Vega stands before her impossibly still. A drop of crimson running down the slit in his cheek like a coppery teardrop. Even though the wound heals the evidence remains.

_“A disgrace,”_ the voice comments in her thoughts, _“though you managed to wound him nonetheless.”_

And yes; war is still terrible and weapons are still terrible and whether it’s a club or a sword or a gun she still is against the violence in the world. But wow did that feel good. It felt freeing.

It felt _empowering._

Vega, however, doesn’t seem to think so. Instead he looks like he’s done playing games. Upper lip curling back in a savage snarl.

_“Run.”_

Nadya flings the sword at Vega in a panic — if she lives through this she’ll call herself names later for that move — and flees.

The hunt resumes. This time pure adrenaline and hunger. He kept to the edge of catching her for his entertainment before but she knows that all it will take is one grab of his hand and that’s it. Game over.

_“Turn.”_

She’s _not _listening to the voice — turning just happens to be a good idea. Not running into a dead end is a very good idea; a very very good idea.

_“Turn again. Double back.”_

_What? Hell no._ But there’s a heavy thud beside her and Nadya rounds on the other side of the bookshelf just in time to avoid Vega’s wicked grasp and a tidal wave of tomes fall on thin air instead.

So… maybe she’s just going to take directions from her unconscious. Better safe than sorry. Especially when _sorry _really means _dead._

Nadya doesn’t break pace — turns when she’s told and hides behind this canvas and that display. Like there’s an omniscient watcher on high (she chances a look up at the rafters but sees only shadow) helping her navigate the labyrinth.

Only it takes her a moment to realize she’s not being led to freedom or safety. Nothing around her looks even remotely familiar. She’s being led into the depths of the _Musea _hidden in shadow. Being led not just away from Vega… but towards something else.

_“Turn now!”_

Her feet move on autopilot — careen her right into a dead end.

“Dammit!” She shouts without thinking — looks hastily behind her like Vega should be right there. Actually… he should be.

She just gave herself away so _why isn’t he there?_

Her panic doesn’t subside — not one bit — but her racing heart calms enough to cure her tunnel vision. Gives her a moment to focus on where she is. Where she’s trapped.

She’s somewhere in the back of the _Musea._ Maybe an archive or something. For the last five hours (or maybe it was five seconds; time passes differently running for your life) she’s only passed stack upon stack of books and volumes and scrolls placed in haphazard balance with the utmost care.

And in every dead-end alcove there’s been some sort of table covered in contributions yet to be sorted. But not this one.

No — Nadya and all her amazingly crap luck turned into the alcove with a giant black coffin against the wall.

It vaguely reminds her of the tomb Adrian had placed Lily in for her Turning. Heavy stone carved together as both a place for mourning and rebirth. But where the coffin in the Raines Corp. basement was allowed to show age and weather this one isn’t. The edges are still sharp — like one touch would slice her hand open.

And that’s not even beginning to unpack the large iron chains polished to a glossy finish wrapped in an endless coil around the thing. A padlock with five key holes the size of both her fists resting near the top like a metal heart.

You chain something up to keep people _out._ You go that hard on a lock, though, and immediately you know something is being kept _in._

Yet even with that fact in mind Nadya finds herself stepping towards it. Deeper and deeper into the alcove and into the alluring obsidian void the polished surface reflects. Her mirror image — disheveled and pale; just a hairs breadth away from dying of fright — reaching out with her in sync towards the lock.

She can open it. She just knows. Knows that like she knows she shouldn’t but wouldn’t it be all right to have just one peek — just one…?

“Just one…” Nadya whispers. Her reflection whispers.

Both Nadyas are fixated on the lock. Ignore one another for the promise of what lies trapped within. Of the safety it could provide for them if it was let out.

Both of them almost miss the blurry figure behind them. _Almost._

She whirls around too late. Scream lost, choked in her throat as Vega doesn’t just grab — but squeezes. His eyes shaking in his skull; face red and a vein in his temple throbbing. She claws and claws with all her might but nothing works.

Then the floor goes out from under her. The back of her head hits the onyx coffin with a violent _thunk._ Nadya feels an unfamiliar warmth slip down her skull to tickle the nape of her neck.

But even as things start to go fuzzy around the edges Nadya notices right away that Vega isn’t focused on his conquest. He’s too busy staring at the image of himself in the coffin’s surface.

“Endless corners to hide in, rooms to get lost in, weapons to arm yourself with… and you choose this.” For a man who prides himself on his presence there’s something different about him, now. She struggles with the right word for it.

He’s… _smaller._ Shrinking himself back in the presence of, what, of her? _No._ Not when he’s been howling and batting her around like lame prey.

Vega’s eyes roam; take in every chain link and corner behind her. “What stories have they told you of him? Did they regale you with his glory days and conquests? Did you see a knight in golden armor set free to slay your enemy out of sheer gratitude? Did Raines tell you of the innocent blood they bathed in together?”

It’s the black casket.

And she knows, now, who rests inside. Like all things — she has always known.

“I may not know what Adrian was like before —” every word like a serrated knife against her lungs; struggling to speak even as his grip tightens, “—but you’re wrong Vega. He’s, _ack,_ he’s a good man. He’s not Gaius. Not even a little.”

He barks a laugh. Spares her a glance for only a sneer before he fixates on the slab again. Like if he dares look away somehow the evil inside will slip free of its bonds and roam untethered.

“Such deluded arrogance.”

Nadya tries her best with struggling survival — and really, she doesn’t have to try that hard — to give him every ounce of hatred she has in one look.

“Why — _why?”_

He humors her even in the haze of his fear. Slackens his grip but raises her higher. The chains dig against Nadya’s spine; the blood from her head smears the perfect surface.

“Squeak louder little mouse,” Vega jeers, “it will be your last to be sure.”

Nadya swallows against his palm. The air thick and dusty in her lungs.

_“Why?”_ she croaks. If any word is going to be her last it’ll be that. Whether he gives her an answer or not. She tried. _God, did she try._

_Whatever it takes._ She did whatever it took. Even this.

And he tells her.

Either because he’s a great literary villain or because he pities the gasping half-dead thing she’s becoming under his hand; he tells her. Whispers it so only she can hear. But she’s not the only one using her ears. He’s a fool to think they’re alone.

“I did what must be done.” Vega pulls back and there’s absolution lurking underneath his hunger. He’s glad she heard his confession.

She regrets wasting her last word to ask.

He squeezes. Sticky blood wells up underneath his fingernails. Smears an imprint of his palm against her throat. Nadya opens her mouth to scream — however silently — and Vega mirrors her with his fangs reared for the kill.

Then there’s a knife on the tip of his tongue. Not another metaphor — she’s on the verge of the end it’s no time for metaphors — but the real deal. Vega’s blood splatters on her face, on her lips, and uses up the last of Nadya’s energy to make her recoil from the horror of it.

The knife’s point twitches and shifts — left to right, right to left — and wedges the top half of Vega’s skull off with little respect or grace. Like a mechanical claw his hand opens and the stale air never tasted so good as it does in that first breath she takes falling to the museum floor.

On her hands and knees Nadya blinks through the sting of vampire blood in time to gaze one last time into the face (well, most of it) of Adam Vega. Watches his lifeless eyes fixate hollow on the wall behind her before it crumbles into ash.

His body follows shortly after; knees buckling but it withers and wastes in blanketed silence over Nadya’s crumpled form. She closes her eyes, struggles to hold her breath when her lungs are still remembering how to work right.

_God forbid she inhale any of the creepy jerk._

When she’s sure she won’t go blind on Vega-ash Nadya opens her eyes to a familiar hand reached out in offering.

“Your companions are scouring the _Musea _for you.”

Valdas gives her the time she needs to collect herself. Doesn’t retract his hand while she takes deep, reviving gulps of oxygen and helps pull her up on trembling legs. And when she buckles he’s there to catch her. Not in comfort or kindness; but in stiff obligation.

Being this close to him again she can feel that endless void in his breast trying to reach out to her. It’s enough motivation for Nadya to forcibly stand on her own two feet.

She wipes off her face with a sleeve. Tries not to think too much about the way Vega’s ash clung to Vega’s blood before it dried. 

_Holy…_

“You —” rapidly looking between the Nadya-shaped outline on the carpeting and her rescuer, “— you saved my life.”

Judging by the look in his immortal eyes, though, that’s just a bonus. She chooses not to think too hard about it.

“Two birds with one stone.” Is his clipped reply.

“I thought you were going to…”

_“‘…to…?’”_

“— to confront him. For using you and Isseya.”

The vampire looks down at the remnants with calm passivity. Nadya wants to be angry; wants to be fucking stoked he’s gone. But something about how Valdas isn’t even sparing Vega’s death another thought resonates with her.

Or maybe it just resonates with the part of her that’s the part of him.

“No.” 

And that’s that.

Then it hits her like an aftershock. _Your companions are looking for you._ Kamilah and Adrian — they’re alive! And even though she has no idea how to begin going about finding them in this maze from hell she starts forward.

Only to be stopped by Valdas’ grasp on her arm.

She looks back, _“hey, what —”_ and finds him turned away from her; fixated.

Nadya’s done everything in her limited power to forget the dark black casket is there. Not an easy task; like seeing a canvas with only one subject and trying to convince herself the display is blank; like there’s a hole in her world because it doesn’t — _shouldn’t _— exist.

She chides herself mentally for thinking it was that easy.

Placing her hand over his Nadya tries to coax him with her. Kind of impossible since he’s like a load-bearing pillar.

“Come on,” she urges harder, “help me find the way out of here.”

She might as well not be talking at all.

When Valdas finally speaks his words make her shiver deep in her bones.

“So _this _is where they put you.”

She’s not dumb. Knows he isn’t talking to her. But really doesn’t want to stick around in case what he’s talking to decides to, you know, answer.

“Valdas, please. Come on.”

“To think… that which once waged impossible wars on immovable heavens could be chained. Locked away. Forgotten…”

“Val—Valdemaras, _please…”_

Something about his name brings him back from wherever the siren’s call of the tomb tried to take him. When he looks at Nadya she holds her breath while each blink changes his eyes — red to honey and back again.

“He led you here.”

Nadya nods — doesn’t want to say it aloud. Was able to push that knowledge back by struggling for her life but with Vega gone she has to face facts.

She knows who is in there. And she knows he led her here — to his prison.

But she won’t continue to play the pawn. Not after all this.

“Let’s go.” And she’s lucky for one step — it’s getting kind of frustrating. “Good; now the other foot.”

_Real smart Nadi’. Patronize the crazy old vampire who just killed the guy who was gonna kill you. Excellent survival skills there._

It works (though she tries her best not to be surprised; like it was her plan all along). She doesn’t know if Valdas looks back until the coffin — call it what it is: a prison — is out of sight but she doesn’t give it the satisfaction.

Together they venture back through stacks and shelves. Nadya keeps him close — or keeps close to him, she’s not picky — in case any more of Vega’s Feral friends are hiding out of sight.

And just when things start to look familiar — no way this place has two giant taxidermy Minotaur heads in a glass case, right? — she hears a familiar voice and sobs.

_“Nadya?! Nadya where are you?!”_

“I’m over here, this way!” She calls out to Adrian with actual hope and relief. “I’m okay Adrian, I’m okay!”

_“Kamilah —”_

_“Yes yes, I heard her too. This way.”_

Because it would only make things more difficult (and secretly because she’s reached her body’s step-count for the day and really doesn’t want to collapse like a damsel in Kamilah’s arms) Nadya stays rooted in place.

Has to choke back the tears in her eyes as she dares to think everything might just be okay.

“What did Vega whisper in his final moments?”

_Dammit._ She tries not to flinch. Couldn’t they just leave well enough alone and just… forget it? Can she not have one little slice of victory pie?

Valdas doesn’t have to ask twice and he knows it. Waits with unerring patience until Nadya looks back at him through her curtain of ashy hair.

_Don’t make me say it._

The look in his eyes speaks volumes.

_“Nadya — once more!”_ This time it’s Kamilah who calls out to her and she’s much closer. _Not close enough._

“Over here!” Maybe she’ll get lucky. Maybe they’ll find her before Valdas gets impatient.

But she’s used up all her luck. Valdas’ lips quirk downward.

So Nadya wets her lips, conjures up the last bit of courage she has, and tells him. “He said…”

_“You know nothing of the kingdom of blood; of the vast hills strewn with bodies in His wake. We made a mistake when we chose to let him suffer for his crimes — I knew it. We all knew it. But we let him live and now we will pay the price for our vanity._

_“He’s coming. And He will not stop until His kingdom is finished. Until His Soldier and His Queen return to His side. I tried to stop Him — I tried to break the cycle before it had the chance to begin. I did what must be done.”_

There’s an exhale behind her; Adrian’s noise of relief. Then Kamilah’s hurried footsteps.

“He said he was jealous of Adrian’s status. Probably some long-running rivalry I don’t understand. Thank you for saving my life — again. I mean it.”

Nadya turns away and feels her held-back tears finally start to fall.

* * *

By Jax’s third prolonged sigh Maricruz has had enough.

“Stop. being. a. child!” She smacks his shoulder with every word and judging by his flinching it’s not a love-tap. Finally he uncrosses his arms to hold them up in is defense.

“All right, stop!” Doesn’t stop him from sending another scowl towards the conference room doors and the vampires beyond. “I just think it’s kind of jilted. She didn’t even put up a fight and what do they get; a bunch of Ferals to wail on.”

Nadya blinks; pretends like she’s cleaning out her ears with her little finger to make sure she’s hearing him right.

“You’re mad you didn’t get to fight?”

“Well —”

“You’re mad you didn’t have to risk your life — or _worse _if they’d bitten you — and instead got the easier job? Am I hearing that right?”

But before Jax can defend himself Lily returns with pilfered goodies from the lobby coffee cart. Throws a bag of onion-flavored chips Jax’s way to placate his aimless frustration.

“Don’t even try to reason with him, Nadi’,” she chides while handing the human her much-needed caffeine, “he’s a sucker for violence. Why else do you think he carries around that stupid sword, like, legit everywhere?”

She’s got a point. Nadya sips her coffee while looking him over as if for the first time. It’s doubly satisfying when he squirms under her gaze; adjusts a slip of his shirt hanging out under his zipped jacket.

“I figured it was for the aesthetic.”

The girls break into short-lived laughter at his expense.

Short-lived only because not long after the conference room door opens. Adrian gives a grim jerk of his head for them to enter.

Nicole is still tied to the chair at the head of the table — _“Jump rope, really?” “Good thing Lula left it in the van.”_ — only she’s no longer struggling against her bonds but instead sits slumped over; unresponsive.

Nadya immediately finds comfort at Kamilah’s side. She just can’t help looking at the woman with concern.

“Is she…?”

“She’s merely unconscious. Don’t fret.”

“Hey there’s no fretting here,” she swallows her scalding brew, “I just…”

But Lily’s already got the same thought — _best _best friend ever — and pushes a single finger to Nicole’s head to raise it. Sure enough her eye is ringed a mottled blue-and-purple. Lily flashes her a thumbs up.

“Wait — you really did punch her?” Adrian asks as he closes the door behind them. “I thought she was making it up to make you look bad.”

Nadya looks to Kamilah. Kamilah who had very much been there when the famed punch occurred.

The woman simply shrugs. “I believe in basking in one’s victory over an enemy. You deserved this at the very least.”

_Okay, that’s cute._ Makes Nadya flush slightly and nudge herself closer against Kamilah’s side. Though her expression remains impassive Nadya feels the ghost of a touch at her lower back. That’s more than enough.

Jax fake-coughs. “A-_hem._ So, are we gonna get to it?”

And pettiness aside Nadya, too, is itching to hear what the pair learned in their interrogation of Nicole. If only so they don’t ask her if Vega explained anything important before he was killed.

In the short months she’s known Adrian she’s gotten familiar with his expressive attitude — especially when it so starkly contrasts with Kamilah’s reserved nature. She’s seen pretty much the entire emotional spectrum and what it comes with; the good and the bad.

But whatever has him so quiet, terse, tight-lipped? She hopes that when all this is put to rest she never has to see him like this again.

There’s a burning darkness hanging behind his eyes as he rests his weight on a pair of chairs; looks over to Nicole with tension trying to come out on top over immortality in the creases of his furrowed brow.

“He promised her his next clan opening — to start with.”

Adrian had willfully looked with a blind eye to just how much Nicole wanted to be Turned. He keeps trying to blame himself; _“If I’d just taken her a little more seriously,”_ but neither Kamilah nor Nadya let him fall into the well of self-pity for too long.

It was Turning Lily that set her over the edge. Unable to look past the dire circumstances (and the fact that Lily hadn’t taken the Clan spot anyway) she decided enough was enough and went to the next best candidate to help her continue along her current uphill trajectory.

Vega was the obvious choice.

Especially when he revealed some plans of his own; plans that required getting Adrian out of the way, Ideally on a permanent basis. “The one thing she couldn’t tell us was what he was working towards,” Adrian explains, “When Nicole wants something she’ll find a way to get it. But she couldn’t crack him.”

“How do you know she’s not just keeping it secret for leverage?” asks Mari; rightfully so too.

Kamilah hums. “Trust me. I pulled everything out of her she was able to give.”

It was Nicole’s idea to tie the rise in Ferals to Adrian’s experiments. Apparently being one step below the top just wasn’t enough. She forged results and data — and when the time came for there to be a body count alongside the paper trail Vega was there to help.

“As for the Ball…” Defeat hangs heavy on his shoulders. “They knew it was a risk but also that if they pulled it off my fate would be all but sealed.”

“Vega was willing to risk his life — risk the Council, risk _everything _— to pull it off. The lives lost as a result are on his head.” adds Kamilah. The look she gives Adrian is probably her version of reassuring. It’s decidedly less so.

Nicole had used her access to Adrian’s labs to take a vial of Feral venom from testing — _“similar to the venom in our blood that Turns humans, only corrupted with the Feral taint,”_ — and with it eliminated any exposure risk on Vega’s part.

Nadya thinks of Megan writhing prone and desperate in the middle of the ballroom; remembers hearing Brandon’s sobs of grief beside her on the train back to the city. Then there’s an icy hand over hers and she looks down to see her own fist clenched — white-knuckled rage held just below the surface.

The look Kamilah gives her is silent but questioning. “I’m okay.” She reassures. Maybe soon she’ll even start to believe it.

The rest of Nicole and Vega’s combined master plan they were pretty much there for; the trial, the lies, Vega relying on the Trinity to stab Adrian in the back for their own sakes and them falling right into his expectations. For her help and testimony not only would Nicole be Turned but Raines Corp. would practically land in her pocket.

“And now it won’t. Hooray, now can we please go home?” Jax rolls his eyes as he says it — still angry about the lack of action on his end.

Adrian’s holding something back — Nadya can see it. If they had more time she’d pester him until he popped but there’s so few precious hours until dawn… and there’s one more thing they need to do.

“But hold on a sec. You’re both still wanted —” Lily points at Kamilah and Adrian, “— so why would the Council of Ass-Clowns agree to meet with you? And have it not be, like, you know… a trap.”

“Plans have already been set in motion. But we should hurry.”

Kamilah doesn’t waste any time — practically drags Nadya with her until they’re all on Raines Corp’s front steps.

Jax gives them both a curt nod. “Then this is where we part ways.”

“Actually…” and Jax really doesn’t like how Adrian leaves him hanging on a single word; really really doesn’t like the look he and Kamilah share.

“No. No way.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t need to. I’m done trusting you two.”

Nadya can’t help but be disappointed. “Jax, just give them a chance.”

“Why should I? So far there’s been a whole lot of risk and very little reward.” Yes, he’s referring to the lack of violence. Which frankly Nadya’s starting to get tired of.

But before she can try to sway him further Adrian steps forward with a hand out in offering. Gives Jax an earnest look.

“Because I don’t forget my debts… and because I think I know how we can make change happen. But it’s now or never.”

It’s like the last five minutes of a show and there’s a whole plotline left untouched. She watches with near nail-biting anticipation as the men size each other up. As Jax’s eyes narrow in suspicion and he starts to object.

“I —”

This time when Maricruz hits him there’s nothing gentle about it. Lily has to smother her fit of laughter while the Clanless square off.

“Fuck your pride, Jax. This is about everyone and somewhere deep down I know you know that. So put your dick away and shake the man’s hand, dammit.”

It’s not the longest speech; nor the most heartfelt. But it’s sure damn well effective.

* * *

_“You’d do well to remember you’re in_ our _city.”_

_“Yeah. You can’t just summon us on a whim!”_

_“And yet here you are.”_

_“I can’t believe I left a fucking massage for this shit.”_

_“Oh — will you just shut up, Priya?”_

_“What did you just say to me?!”_

Any louder and they’d echo over Central Park; statue-topped hidden entrance or no. But it’s no surprise. Still they continue down into the Council chamber — into the pit of vipers that awaits.

Valdas and Isseya stand in the center of an oblong triangle of Council members; each colored in varied levels of frustration.

Kamilah is the first to emerge from the stairwell — her presence cuts the Baron off mid-snap at Priya.

“You little cu — Kamilah?”

All eyes turn to watch the rest of them enter. Nadya watches the Baron go a violent shade of red at the sight of Adrian — but when his eyes land on Jax he’s positively ready to burst.

“You! Clanless whelp! How fucking dare —”

He cuts off like something out of a film. There’s nothing else to do, though, what with Isseya suddenly at his back with two dangerously strong hands pressing down on his shoulders. Nadya knows firsthand just how hard she can squeeze.

Isseya leans down and purrs into the Baron’s ear; “Sssh… I’m tired of hearing your voice.”

The Baron shuts up.

As they approach the center of the chamber Adrian offers his hand for Valdas to shake.

“Thank you for doing this last favor.”

Valdas doesn’t take it. “Consider this your repayment for bringing Vega to me. I would have loathed having to hunt him down myself.”

It’s enough to draw attention away from the fact that Adrian’s there — Lester looks around as though he’s just now noticing Vega’s absence.

“What have you done?” he barks.

Valdas takes the answer; “Punished the guilty.” then back to Adrian, “Do not call upon us again. Unless… you wish to repeat _La Soirée.”_

The cavern’s sudden silence is deafening as Valdas cups Adrian’s jaw in hand and presses a firm and chaste kiss to his lips. Even Adrian isn’t sure how to respond — simply stands there and accepts it rather than giving back. There’s an almost seductive quality to the way Valdas strokes Adrian’s bottom lip with his thumb before pulling away.

“Come, my love.” He calls for Isseya with a crooked arm. She’s gone from the Baron’s space in a blur — but not before stealing a far less innocent kiss from Adrian as well — to take Valdas’ arm in hers.

As they pass Isseya turns to watch Nadya with bright eyes — their endless depths showing only one thing: hunger.

_“Enjoy your gift.”_ She whispers.

The Trinity leaves — and every person present watches them go.

What gift she means Nadya doesn’t know. But she can’t shake the feeling that they’ll meet again.

Or is it that they’ve met before?

The spell breaks as soon as the vampires of New York are left alone. Fangs on the edge of bearing, sides already being taken. The tension is a thick fog and it’s just shy of choking them all.

Kamilah assumes the rigid posture of the eldest and addresses them calmly. “Adam is dead.”

“Yeah,” Priya snorts, “we figured that much out for ourselves.”

“I won’t say he didn’t deserve it. He was willing to do the same to me for his own ends.” counters Adrian firmly.

“He wasn’t guilty of Council treason.”

The look Adrian gives Lester is colder than Nadya’s ever seen in him.

“Neither was — am — I. He and my former VP conspired together to blame me for their own ends.” A shadow crosses his expression and Nadya’s heart leaps a beat or two. “Nicole only cared about being Turned. I still don’t know exactly what Vega got out of framing me… but I was framed.

“I admitted to everything I did behind your backs. To experimenting on Ferals, to hiring the Nighthunters. But Vega used my research to Turn other vampires Feral and placed everyone at the Ball at risk.”

Priya rolls her eyes. “Why would he put himself in that kind of danger?”

“Because he was insane.”

“Or stupid…” Lester mutters. And Nadya’ll give him that.

“He used everyone. He used the Trinity’s clout to make me seem guilty and used your fear of the situation and our infighting to turn you to his side.”

“And if you’re still there,” warns Kamilah, “I’ll have you join him.”

Her threat isn’t thinly veiled in the slightest. But neither is her strength; which she wears like a proud cloak in front of the Council. No one says anything against her.

“Pssht, infighting…” the Baron mutters under his breath the, but before Kamilah can make good on her words Adrian throws out an arm to stay her hand.

“If you don’t see it then you’re only blinding yourself,” he insists, “because I think something like this was a long time coming. Think about it — we formed this Council not out of want but out of necessity. At the time we didn’t even like each other. The only thing that bound us all together was —”

“Getting Gaius out of the way and saving our own skins?” offers Lester. And Adrian nods.

“— Yes. The Council was the only thing between order and a chaos that could have destroyed everything. And I believe Vega sought to bring that chaos back to form. Trust me… I would have much rather had him stand trial for his crimes.”

But he had to go and run afoul of the Trinity. Somehow Nadya feels it linger among them all. The five left standing. No one has to say it. No one wants to.

“So what now?” That the question comes from Priya is enough to make Nadya wonder if she’s dreaming. “We’ve never had to pick a new Council member before. Do we divvy up his shit?” Her grin widens. “Momma could use a new mansion…”

Adrian refuses her steadfast. “No. And we don’t need to pick a new member.”

The Baron growls. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Don’t you see the opportunity we have before us?”

“The fuck you talkin’ about, boy?”

“I’m talking about a chance to make real, _lasting _change. Not out of desperation but out of recognizing that our system is flawed.”

“You think democracy is flawed?” Lester blinks in astonishment.

But Adrian’s on a roll. No longer filled with the darkness of his trial and false incrimination but something else. It’s the first time Nadya’s seen the real him shine through since this all began and it gives her a rush of hope.

“Of course not. But our rules just don’t fit with the times. We need to embrace the new world and we’re going to start,” he steps aside and gestures to Jax, “by righting our earliest wrongs. We’re going to start with the Clanless.”

There’s opposition at first.

Priya threatens to tear out Jax’s heart; _“no matter how pretty he is.”_ The Baron barks out half a declaration of war — but only half, since Jax gives him a surprisingly calm reminder of his Clan’s business with Jax’s own people and how that very same business was the reason Adrian was able to escape his execution in the first place.

Lester is the quietest of them all; the most willing to hear out the possibilities. Even so, Nadya knows the gears turning in his head are just trying to figure out how to turn the situation to his advantage. And if that’s what it takes then she’s down with it.

Nobody wants a war — that’s what it comes down to. The one thing they all agree on. Whether they have too much to lose, have fought too many wars already, or don’t want innocents in the crossfire; there’s something holding each one of them back.

And that’s a better place to start than she thought they’d have.

At some point they start arguing about which rules to change and which to keep — that’s when Nadya stops giving in to her exhaustion. When the Baron tries selfishly claiming Vega’s assets for himself she thinks closing her eyes for a minute won’t hurt.

Then there’s a cool tickle against her forehead. Initially she resists… but okay, things could be a little more comfortable — is that stone she’s leaning on because her back feels terrible.

Nadya’s bleary eyes open to the sight of Jax and Adrian near the cavern stairs.

“Come by my office tomorrow at sunset and we’ll draw up the paperwork.” Adrian says with his hands in those borrowed jeans pockets. Things will be back to normal when he’s back in his suits.

“I told you,” argues Jax, “I don’t _do _paperwork.”

Adrian sighs — looks like he debates trying to press the issue but he lets Jax go without another word.

The tickle returns and Nadya glances to see Kamilah off to her side. Tender touches brushing wisps of hair out of her eyes. She likes this side of the woman; the way her eyes pull her in like puddles of melted chocolate.

Mmm…. Chocolate.

“What about it?” Kamilah’s lips quirk and that’s when Nadya realizes she said that aloud.

“Uh… nothing. Nothing. What happened? Where’s…?”

“Gone,” Kamilah answers before she can even finish asking, “placated… for now.”

Kamilah wordlessly helps her stand and get her bearings. Nadya rubs her eyes and looks to see Adrian smiling at her near the entrance.

“Does that mean we —” _—yawn—_ “— we won?”

It takes a nudge but Kamilah stays at her side as they start to leave.

“I believe so.”

It’s not enough to give her the energy to wake. But it’s still something.

“Awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly I just want to give a whole lot of love to everyone who has read/commented/left kudos on this fic. Getting to 1000+ hits absolutely blew me out of the water and I couldn't be more grateful! 
> 
> And now that we've reached that point... _I’d really love to know your thoughts on the ending!_ I know there were some _big_ changes compared to BB1.
> 
> As always comments and critique would be fabulous. Thank you for reading!


	22. The Next Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadya and Adrian finally talk about what happened. Lily gets a bouquet of blue lotuses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter content warnings:** nsfw content, language, alcohol

_Two weeks later…_

“Adrian Raines’ office, please hold.”

_Click._

“Adrian Raines’ office, can you hold for me for just a sec? Thank you.”

_Click._

“Mr. Raines’ office — please hold.”

_Click._

“Adrian Raines’ office, ple— Oh, thank you for holding. Uh… just keep doing that. Thank you!”

_Click. Ping._

Nadya’s on autopilot as she grabs the phone and holds it to her ear — ready to spout her spiel to yet another caller. The dial tone confuses her for a second — can’t tell if it’s actually there or her brain’s the one that’s gone on hold.

The glowing icon at the bottom of the computer screen brings her back into focus-mode.

[ADRIAN]: You ok out there?  
[NADYA]: yes  
[NADYA]: did u get this many calls b4 or am i out of practice?  
[ADRIAN]: There’s a tech expo next week. Nicole signed up RCorp to present on solar energy.

Somehow she’s not even surprised that Nicole’s legacy — publicly tarnished regarding a carefully-crafted scandal of ‘selling company secrets’ — is making her life more difficult.

The phone starts ringing again and she’s barely a crumb away from pulling her hair out.

[NADYA]: take some of these!!!!  
[ADRIAN]: Sorry, I just finished with Vega’s campaign manager.  
[NADYA]: NOW!!!

The screen says Adrian is typing but she closes the window without letting it send. Puts on her most chipper service voice as she answers; “Adrian Raines’ office, thank you for holding, I’m transferring you to Mister Raines now,” and sends the problem away with a push of a button.

Well, _that _problem anyway.

It takes them the entire afternoon to crank out every last caller. Just when there’s an end in sight another wave floods in — but it wouldn’t be work if it wasn’t irritating on some level.

Adrian is, well, Adrian-like in his profuse apology messages. And if she’d normally turn down his offer to pay for the upstairs employee restaurant to bring down dinner she certainly won’t today.

The last time Nadya looked at a clock it was a perfectly acceptable time to order steak and scallops as a reward for finishing. Somewhere in between she migrates into Adrian’s actual office with all of her supplies and several tablets — he takes the calls while she gets everything in place.

That nothing she’s putting down on his calendars has anything to do with vampires, Council problems, or mysterious supernatural happenings is actually frustrating. And there are several times Nadya catches herself in the middle of thinking _‘I’d rather be chased by a horde of Ferals’_ and shakes it off because, well, neither is preferable.

When the work-day officially ends (maybe not for them but certainly for the people who will be pestering them with calls) Nadya actually chucks her calendar aside like a frisbee. Flinches when it collides with the office wall but it doesn’t leave a mark so, you know, no regrets.

Heels kicked off in blissful relief and she ignores the soft ticking of the clock reading 22:11 on the wall behind him with carefully honed skill to dig into her buttery meal with fervor.

“I completely forgot about the expo. Wine?” Adrian lifts the bottle in offering, takes her vigorous nod around a mouthful of food with laughter as he pours a second for himself. “I can’t believe I let it slip my mind. We’ve contributed the last four years.”

Nadya at least has the decency not to answer with a full mouth. “Well in your defense we were sorta busy, you know, trying not to die.”

“Fair point.”

They ‘cheers’ their drinks and take a celebratory sip. Not just for what they accomplished today — they both know it.

Most of the shared meal is filled with silence. Adrian doesn’t share her human gusto for luxury entrees but he does eat instead of continuing to work. A small gesture for which she is eternally grateful.

Only when she’s pushing around the scraps of fatty meat in fattier sauce does Nadya consider voicing her thoughts. Avoids eye contact carefully — only because she doesn’t want him to reconsider keeping her on as his assistant.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?” asks Adrian in reply. She gives him a look of _really?_ but he’s not a mind reader. 

“You know — this,” with a wide gesture around his office, “balance the two worlds. Not let it make you crazy.”

“Where is this coming from?” He leans forward with folded hands. “You were managing it just fine before the Ball.”

“Exactly! Before the literal circus. Before the Ball and what happened to Megan and hiding underground and… and you’re awfully calm considering a few weeks ago you were nearly executed for something you didn’t even do.”

Maybe her voice hitches a little bit. Hopefully he won’t say anything.

The day they returned to work Nadya adopted a _‘leave it all behind’_ mentality that, for the most part, has worked pretty well. Adrian’s followed in her footsteps without needing clarification on anything too. Like it never even happened.

Only it _did _happen. It very much happened. And she can only ignore it for so long until the rambling starts to kick in against her will — her subconscious is dying to talk and can only be suppressed for so long.

Okay, so… maybe not talking about it wasn’t the _best _idea. She’s known to have a few bad ones from time to time.

Only Adrian doesn’t look very surprised. In fact he seems relieved.

“I was wondering when you were going to open up. I wanted to try sooner but Lily said you just needed time.”

“Well I have this thing I do where I — hold up, when were you talking to Lily?” Not like her best best friend and her boss best friend can’t talk but… _what?_

Almost sheepishly Adrian nudges his phone under a leather file. “Hm? What?”

“Don’t gimme that face Adrian Raines.”

“What face?”

“That face.”

He’s lucky he relents before she has to rough it out of him. “In my defense I was just concerned. I wanted to make sure you weren’t just pushing down your feelings.”

Nadya huffs. “Well you should’ve just asked.”

“Would you have told me?”

“Maybe — not. But don’t use Lil’ as a middle-woman.”

“All right; and I’m sorry.” But she’s not getting away with it that easily — can’t change the subject without him being able to follow her step-for-step. That much is obvious by the look he gives.

Nadya tries not to feel so painfully small and human when she finally says; “I just thought it would be better — pushing it all down, I mean. No offense but I don’t exactly have much experience with multiple near-death situations. Actually I don’t have any experience with them at all.”

“Good thing that wasn’t in the interview, huh?”

“You _tricked me_ over coffee. Technically I _missed_ my interview, remember?”

“I told you how refreshing it was not to be recognized. And you _did_ get the job in the end.”

At least he doesn’t hold back bantering with her. That does wonders — more than Nadya even realized. Only she doesn’t have a comeback, so…

So Adrian helps her out.

“But that’s the difference, I think. You’re right; you haven’t come so close to dying before, but I have. Actually,” he leans back thoughtfully, “that isn’t even the first time I’ve had my life threatened by Vega now that I think about it.”

“Adrian?”

“Yes Nadya?”

“How many times have you nearly died?”

He stops to think it over. “Certainly over a dozen, maybe two — not counting the time I actually died.”

_That’s a good point._ She hadn’t thought about that one.

“But do you want to know something?” He waits until she’s looking back into his eyes. “All those times before; every battle in every war, every dangerous stunt or accident? I may have had confidence but I never _knew _I was getting out alive. This last time — no matter how bleak things seemed — I didn’t need confidence. I had something else.”

“What was it?” she asks; maybe if it’s enough for him then it’ll be enough for her too.

“I had hope,” when he offers his hand palm-up on the desk Nadya takes it without hesitation, “I had you.”

_It’s so awful._ Like, so terribly corny and embarrassing that she’s flustered _for _him which simply isn’t fair. Especially when he starts grinning over it.

“If you spent your time trapped in that dungeon thinking I was gonna bust in and rescue you like some _Buffy _sequence —”

“No, not exactly. But you did save me.”

“Well yeah but only because —”

“Because you’re the woman who chose to remember. Who had questions and dug your heels in until they were answered. Don’t devalue yourself just because you’re human, Nadya.”

He squeezes their hands. _“Thank you,_ Nadya Al Jamil. Thank you for saving my life.”

She’s all-too-familiar with the stinging in her eyes at this point. Yanks her hand from his and looks around hastily for a tissue only to remember they’re on her desk back outside — but he takes pity on her and offers up his handkerchief.

She can only manage to speak when she’s got soft cotton pressed into her eyeballs.

“I left my waterproof mascara at Kamilah’s, jerk.”

“I’m sorry?” He has the gall to sound unsure.

“You’d better be.”

When Nadya opens her eyes again Adrian’s no longer in his chair — which spins slowly without him. In the blink of an eye he’s at her side with her purse and tissue box from her desk; both offered with a hopeful look.

They trade and he tucks the handkerchief in his pocket. “You’re learning, Raines.”

He sits back in his chair with a grin.

“Who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

“Oh my god — shut up.”

“What? What did I say?”

She hurls a makeup-smeared tissue ball at Adrian while he laughs.

* * *

The delivery man is really lucky she had a last-minute question in her choice of shoes. Otherwise Nadya most certainly would have stepped on the bouquet.

If Adrian weren’t waiting downstairs in the middle of evening traffic she’d be happy to parade the flowers into Lily’s room and make fun of her for being so unbelievably sappy with Maricruz but, alas, time is of the essence.

“Lil’ you’ve got a delivery!” She shouts instead. And if there’s only one good thing about Lily being Turned it’s that vampire speed really helps their near-opposite work ethics.

Nadya places the flowers on the counter just as Lily blurs in.

“Hey, thought you were leaving for work?”

“Well I was. But these stopped me.” She pushes them over gently. The blue of the petals reminds her of Mari’s shocking hair. That must be why she picked them.

For a moment it looks like Lily has no idea what she’s talking about; but it must have been a trick of the light. She takes them in hand and looks them over with… surprisingly un-Lily-like speculation.

“Oh, huh. Is there a card?”

“Dunno, lemme see —” the sudden armful of bouquet nearly sends her reeling, “— here, down near the bottom.”

_For You._

Scrawled in elegant script she didn’t know the smuggler was capable of — but everyone has a strange hobby. “Well that’s cute.”

Lily nods; suddenly distracted by something on her phone. “Uh-huh. Yeah.”

“Lil’?”

“Totally.”

“Lily.”

“Huh?” She sees Nadya’s light smack of the head coming from a mile away and speeds around the kitchen island to avoid it. “What, Nadya? _What?”_

“You’re just a little casual about them, that’s all. Especially since you’re seeing her tonight…” Nadya exchanges flowers for her bag and looks Lily over.

“You’d tell me if you were having girlfriend troubles… right?”

“Me? Girlfriend troubles? El-oh-el, Nadya. Mari and I are fine.”

With her thumb still rapidly plugging away at her screen Lily rounds the counter. Starts pushing Nadya out the door with unnerving strength. “Don’t keep Adrian waiting! Oh here, take ‘em —” _how does she end up carrying the bouquet again?_ “— they’ll brighten up your office.”

“What? Wait —”

“Buh-bye!”

“What are you —”

“Mari’s almost here. Surprise booty call. Leave!”

“But —”

But nothing. Lily shoves her out the door and maybe she’d buy the erratic behavior if Lily getting laid was actually on the table but she’s pretty sure Maricruz isn’t gonna like the locks she hears slotting into place.

Outside she catches sight of the company car when Adrian flashes the headlights. She’s never been more excited for her boss’ generosity when he hands her a small bag full of powdered sugar-y goodness.

Her suspicion levels start to elevate when, fifteen minutes later, he checks his phone for the seventh time.

“Okay — what are you two not telling me?”

There’s such a thing as too innocent and maybe someone like Nadya could pull it off (she’s short and that’s adorable — a widely known fact) but Adrian ‘Scary Vampire’ Raines most certainly can’t.

Especially when he blinks and tries for what he probably thinks is a nonchalant smile. “What was that you said?”

She’s not stupid enough to try and distract him from driving in the middle of the city but he’s going to get a literal earful when they reach the parking garage.

Which… they should have reached the parking garage by now.

Nadya looks out through the tinted windows to the city’s nightlife awakening block by block. Commuters heading home, tourists starting their evenings on the town; neon lights starting to reflect off the windows of skyscrapers.

_Wait._ She knows where they’re going.

She swallows thickly around a too-large bite. Grabs her compact mirror and starts wiping powdered sugar away from her lips and chin in haste.

“Why are you doing this to me? I look terrible.”

Adrian scoffs. “You look great. You always do.”

“Yeah maybe for a day at the office. Not for…”

“A date?”

City traffic or not that earns him a smack to the chest. He doesn’t even flinch.

Is she sweating? _Oh lordy she’s sweating._ She’s gonna sweat right through her thin cardigan and that’s not attractive in the slightest.

“Please turn around?” She squeaks, timid, but of course Adrian doesn’t listen. Why would he ever listen to her?

Instead he continues on the route to Ahmanet Financial.

Trapped in a car with her boss (who undoubtedly has only the best intentions), after being shoved out of her apartment by her roommate (who definitely plans on someone getting lucky tonight), on her way to the apartment of her… special friend (who she hopes for everyone’s sakes is in on this).

_What a… Thursday._

“The bouquet was Lily’s idea,” Adrian says when he finally has enough of Nadya’s silent treatment — singing like a canary, “do you like them?”

“They’re pretty.”

“They’re Egyptian blue lotuses. Kamilah’s favorite.”

_So this is a thing that’s happening._

“If you’re gonna go through with this can you at least, I dunno, fill me in on what’s supposed to be going on?”

Being the terrible terrible person that she is Nadya decided to take the _‘leave it all behind’_ mentality a little… too far. _Too-embarrassed-to-call-her_ far. _Hiding-in-the-office-bathroom-when-she-stopped-by_ far.

Safe to say Kamilah might be under the wild impression that Nadya wants nothing to do with her now that they’re out of mortal peril. Which couldn’t be further than the truth! She just hasn’t done this in some time and definitely doesn’t know how to go about it with a woman as gorgeous as Kamilah.

Not to mention the two thousand-year-old badass queen of pain thing. That might be a contributing factor.

Only when they’re parked and Nadya’s taken deep breaths while hopped up on the trunk of his car does Adrian answer.

“Whatever you may be assuming about her, I think you may be holding yourself back.”

She gives him a look of _‘wow, you don’t say?’_ but can’t hold it for long. Adrian — _god love him_ — keeps trying like Nadya’s making a conscious decision not to pursue perfection.

“She can be bristly at times — I’m sure you’ve seen. But underneath it all she’s really this… this wonderful and caring person. She’s just guarded — both of us, you know? We’ve been through —”

“Adrian,” she holds up a hand to stop him, “you don’t need to talk her up for me. Trust me; I really — like _really _— like her.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“I am. I think.”

She gives him a quick recap of what happened in the Shadow Den — not about Kamilah helping her realize she isn’t crazy or secretly some sort of psychopath, but how they agreed to talk about, well, them when everything was over. “And instead of doing it I just chickened out. She probably doesn’t even want to anymore.”

He coaxes her off of the car and onto her own two (wobbly) feet. Flexes his fingers on her shoulders and squeezes; nothing painful, but stronger than the average man. Squares down and looks her in the eye.

“Kamilah is the closest thing I have to family. She’s been the only one in my life worth protecting for decades now. Well — I mean now that I know you I guess —”

“Yeah yeah I get it. Keep motivating.”

“— Right. What I’m saying is I’m just as protective of her as she is of me and I know, Nadya — I _know _— that you two are something special. So if that’s what helps you march over to that elevator and give her those flowers and —”

“You don’t gotta describe the whole thing.”

“— Right. Again. You know what I mean.”

_Yeah._ She knows what he means. And pulls him into the tightest hug she can for his troubles. The way he returns it floods her with comfort; reminds her that no matter what she isn’t alone.

Before Nadya can pull away there’s a sudden weightless feeling and a familiar tonal ding. She pulls back to find them both in the enclosed space of the elevator — and then Adrian’s on the other side of the doors.

“Good luck!” She doesn’t know which is worse; his little wave or the two thumbs up he shoots at her before the doors cut them off.

Maybe he and Lily have been texting a little too much.

It feels like no time has passed when the elevator stops at the penthouse — makes her check just in case that it didn’t stop on a random floor by accident. _Nope._

She steps out. _Deep breaths. Deep breaths._ And knocks.

Maybe Gerard will be able to throw a handful of wise words of English wisdom her way…

Kamilah answers the door instead.

Nadya almost throws the bouquet in her face. The woman’s vampire speed keeps that from going as disastrously as it could but, you know, it’s still not the best thing to do. A flurry of fallen petals trickle to the carpet.

Kamilah practically wrenches her eyes away from Nadya; looks down to observe the mostly-intact flowers with soft surprise. She brushes the tips of her fingers over their vibrant hue.

“Full disclosure: the flowers were Adrian’s idea — I think — and I know I should have known your favorite flowers beforehand but I promise the second I get to my notebook I’m jotting that down for future reference.”

Only when she stops rambling Kamilah is still focused on the flowers. At first she was sure there was one of her rarer open and unguarded looks gazing down at them but now she can see the slight downturn of Kamilah’s mouth.

She’s gonna kill Adrian. And Lily. Both of them — _again._

“You don’t like them?”

“The blue lotus is a rare — and expensive — varietal. Hard to get this time of year.”

_That doesn’t… answer her question?_ “Oh.”

Her heart drops into her gut when Kamilah turns back into the condo with the flowers in tow. Leaves the door open behind her. It makes Nadya stand in the doorway like a statue until, beyond the kitchen, she hears; “close the door behind you.”

She lingers behind like an awkward shadow. Watches as Kamilah re-homes the bouquet in a vase that looks ancient and yet still timeless. She can’t read the hieroglyphics wrapping around the vessel from top to bottom but judging by the fondness hiding in the corners of the woman’s eyes that’s not the first time it’s held flowers native to her homeland.

Each time they cross paths she tries to find something to say — falls short when she’s given a look with Kamilah’s almost signature arched eyebrow and just saves her words for later when the moment passes.

It doesn’t help that she has no idea what’s going on. What’s expected of her then and there.

Especially when Kamilah turns down the hallway towards the rest of the place.

“Are you coming?”

_Oh._ Oh yes she is. And that definitely doesn’t need a word to follow it as she practically scampers along. As she passes the vibrant lotus blossoms on their pedestal that overlooks the entirety of the main apartment.

Nadya made the mistake of going into Kamilah’s office only once; when she was still getting her bearings staying in a new place. She imagines it’s designed much in the same fashion as her CEO’s office several floors below them; sleek and sharp and new-age; everything Adrian’s office isn’t.

By the time she makes it to the doorway Kamilah is at a small table with a hidden bar caddy in the cabinet below. She takes two full glasses in hand and turns — offers one to Nadya casually.

She takes it and, uncultured as she is, tries to inhale and determine what it might be.

“A cherry cognac,” Kamilah answers unprompted. Tilts her tumbler slightly for a gentle cheers before they drink.

It burns all the way down Nadya’s throat. Makes her cough and tap her chest lightly. Kamilah tries slightly less than her best not to look bemused.

“Alcohol like this is not meant to be tasted, but savored.”

Nadya’s voice is rough in her reply; “Good to know.” Not like she’ll ever understand rich people and their rich liquors anyway. And the second time, when she sips with tight lips that barely let anything through, it goes down much more smoothly.

They’re both companions to silence for some time. Nadya discovers this amazing thing where every time she tries to speak and fails she can cover it up with the taste of burned cherries.

It’s likely they’re both a little surprised when Kamilah chooses to go first; turns her back on Nadya to face the large window overlooking the city.

“I would have thought you would be at the office by now. There’s an important convention of some sort soon, correct?”

Kamilah Sayeed making small talk. Screw Vega — _this _will bring upon the end of the world just as easily.

It makes Nadya laugh. “Well yeah, that was the plan. But plans change.”

“Oh?”

“Especially when your boss takes you to work every day… except for today, of course. When he sorta bypassed that.”

“Of course.”

“But I guess that’s what happens when said boss is gung-ho on playing matchmaker.”

She joins the vampiress at the window. Finds herself focusing more on the beauty of Kamilah’s reflection than the actual view. Her drink is empty by now but she still holds onto it — habit more than anything.

After her eyes make the journey of traveling from Kamilah’s waist all the way up to her features, though, her breath catches in her lungs at the piercing eyes giving her the same treatment.

Only after a long and final drink does Kamilah answer.

“And are you only here by Adrian’s meddlesome hand?”

“Meddlesome…” Nadya bites her bottom lip, “some might say helpful…”

But Kamilah only quirks her eyebrow; her question unanswered. _Got it._

“Partly. I know we said, you know, when everything was done we’d talk about what happened — uh… between us.”

“Indeed. I recall.”

“And I wanted to — well, _want _to…” She pauses when Kamilah starts moving; ready to let her take the lead on the conversation. But the brunette gives a nod to coax her into continuing while she casually takes their glasses away. “But then there was this part of me that kept doubting myself, you know? Kept me wondering if it was a good idea, or if I was reading the signals right…

“And that part kept asking if you were really interested in me.”

Kamilah crosses the room before she’s even finished. That speed, both alluring and terrifying depending on who or what is coming at her; catching her breathless. She’s starting to think that’s the way Kamilah likes her best.

Nadya only realizes she’s pinned when it’s too late. Watches as Kamilah splays her long fingers against the glass beside Nadya’s head and curls her other hand in the hairs at the nape of her neck.

_Well this escalated quickly._

Then she’s leaning forward and Nadya can taste the smoky cherry on her breath. There’s no rain to drown them out this time. The only thunder is what hammers between them.

“Answer something for me, Nadya.”

Has she ever noticed the way her name curls on Kamilah’s tongue? So terribly _terribly _sinful.

“Mm—Mmhm. Yes. Anything.”

And _oooh _boy she knows that look anywhere. _Anything,_ well _anything _is a dangerous game. One she’s sure the immortal will definitely play if given the opportunity.

Whatever air might have been left between them Kamilah closes with a press of her hips.

“You’ve been in my home. You’ve seen my work. There are things you know about me that I would not share with a soul living or dead. And rarer still… you are one of the few lucky enough to have seen me at my most raw and bare.”

Her tongue flicks out — tastes the seam of Nadya’s lips — and she catches the hint of pearly fang hidden behind a smirk.

_“Do I look to be the kind of woman to waste her time on that which does not hold her interest?”_

Nadya’s fully prepared to answer — doesn’t realize it’s a rhetorical question until she can’t speak on account of the second tongue in her mouth.

They melt together; blood and water in the same glass. Both starkly different but entangled together in a mess of limbs and hair and hot, panted breaths more from one than the other.

Every moan and mewled gasp Kamilah eats up like a starving woman. Drinks in the taste of Nadya’s skin speckled with sweat from the curve of her jaw down to the dip of her fluttering pulse against her neck.

There’s no doubt about it: Kamilah’s way more into it than she was the last time. But Nadya wouldn’t trade either of these moments for anything in the world.

She tries to reach down and cradle Kamilah’s face — bring her back up to continue killing her through kisses — then she can’t move her hands. Can feel the flex of the vampire’s fingers entwined with hers and the hard press of the glass against her wrists. Swears the glass might let out a resistant creak or two.

“Did I say you could touch?” The words are purred; punctuated with scrapes of blunted teeth on her collarbone. Nadya’s heart feels like a hummingbird’s wings.

“S-Sorry.”

“You can do better than that.”

_Ohmygod._ “I’m sorry, Kamilah.”

She doesn’t know if that’s the word the woman wants — hopes it’s okay because she doesn’t want to try any funny business right now. Wants to say Kamilah’s name until it’s no longer a name but a series of letters strung together that she can’t even comprehend besides what they bring into her life: pleasure, joy, _desire._

_Thank god it’s enough._ “Good girl.”

The world moves on without them while they stand there lost in bliss. In the burn of alcohol on savored lips and the flex of fingers as Nadya tests the waters — tests, but doesn’t breach them.

She’s never swam this far out in the sea before. It both terrifies and excites her. _Kamilah _both terrifies and excites her. Yet even treading open water she knows there’s no way the waves of feeling pushing off of the woman before her would ever let her drown.

Kamilah gives a soft nip to her jugular; sucks on the heated flesh and the liquid gold pounding beneath. Nadya closes her eyes on instinct. Tilts her head up to help ease of access.

Then the pleasure of plush lips stops. Nadya flexes — the grip is still there. Can still feel the presence radiating off of Kamilah’s body like an ancient ruin still standing.

She peeks open her eyes and tries not to startle at the sight in front of her. It’s one she’s seen before — and never, too, until now.

Nadya knows she’s safe because all it takes is a tap against the woman’s knuckles to free her hand. Yes, even without permission she reaches out and brushes aside the curtain of warm brown hair.

It’s not fear that turns away the vampire’s true nature; the subtle monster hidden just beneath the surface. No, Kamilah is too proud of who she is despite what she is to let that stop her.

But there’s a shadow in the look she gives Nadya that isn’t brought on by the night outside.

_There are things you know about me that I would not share with a soul living or dead._

With a wordless burst of confidence (that she would wholly deny if this happens to go badly) Nadya’s grip tightens on Kamilah’s jaw. Holds her in place as she leans forward to drag the flat of her tongue over the razor’s edge of a fang.

It hurts — like all small wounds do — and the sudden coppery taste that coats the back of her throat is something she almost chokes on. But Nadya endures. Pushes her blood along Kamilah’s teeth.

She’s not giving permission, no, but allowing vulnerability. It’s hard to tell the difference but Kamilah’s helping her get there bit by bit.

Kamilah’s voice drops into a wanton moan. For the first time Nadya feels the weight of her immortality yield in tiny tremors wracked over her body. Feels the prickle of hairs standing tall down her lithe arms.

When they open Kamilah’s eyes are a thin red band around blown pupils. Her mouth hangs open ever-so-slightly. Panting; prone. Her tongue runs along the length of her teeth to suckle every last drop of blood to savor.

“I want you to have all of me.” whispers Nadya; enraptured by the sight before her.

The vampiress shakes out of some stupor. Starts to reach and Nadya brings her hand back up to the window but there’s nothing holding her there beyond a sheer will to please; to make Kamilah proud of her.

She doesn’t wait long to feel that touch again. To feel the tickle of a zipper sliding along her hip and her skirt struggle to stay held in place.

With a wave of Kamilah’s hand the skirt tickles her toes in a pool of fabric. The tips of sharp nails drag half-formed promises atop her nylons.

Their eyes meet. If there’s a game being played Nadya comes to the conclusion that she’s just lost.

_She’s never been so incredibly happy about losing before._

“Are you truly aware of what you say; of what you’re offering?” Kamilah rasps. Traces the outer entrance of her human with coy intent.

Nadya nods. “Yes.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I know… I know what I’m offering, Kamilah.” It takes every ounce of her finite willpower to keep from keening; feels those nails press and drag and rip through the thin nude mesh and expose her skin to that tantalizing touch.

“Good. Now tell me again.”

“I’m offering all of me.”

“Again.”

“I’m offering —” this time there’s no playful teasing, only the way her panties are moved aside, “— all of m-me.”

_“Again.”_

The fingertip dips forward. Just a touch. Enough to coat the digit in slick.

Nadya wants to obey — wholly intends on it — but finds herself rendered mute at the sight of Kamilah bringing her hand up to her lips and sucking her skin clean.

But Kamilah doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Cocks an arched brow and pushes all her warning into one word: “Nadya…”

_“I’m yours!”_

Not what she was planning on saying but sometimes her lack of brain-to-mouth filter comes in handy. Especially in moments like this; where her heart overrides all thought and reason.

She’ll savor the victory of Kamilah’s surprised face later, it seems. If she’s still alive by the time they finish.

Judging by the fervent hunger with which Kamilah seals their unspoken pact in a kiss, though, that might be up in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Update on 05.21:** References to MC's interview dotted throughout the book have been changed to better reflect the changed events specific to Nadya's canon. The changes are in this chapter (primarily) and a few others. They do not change anything important in the book.
> 
> The Epilogue will be posted _later today (10.23)_ as well as the link to the final thoughts post! Thank you all _so, so much_ for coming on this journey with Nadya and I and we hope to see you in New Orleans next week for the beginning of Taylor's journey in [_Bound by Circumstance!_](https://jcckwrites.tumblr.com/post/188497890139/bound-by-circumstance-%E3%85%A4-%E3%85%A4-%E3%85%A4-taylor-has-made-it)


	23. The Spoils (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter content warnings:** none

_Across the city…_

He comes up behind, hands on her hips, and graces her tanned throat with familiar kisses. An action not of affection or love but as habitual as hunger and speech.

“Do you really think he’s out there somewhere?”

Valdas tilts his eyes up. Let’s them rest on the portrait.

There’s a reason every statue in every museum around the world is a ghost in marble. The Romans were masters of many things but the key to paint that would last centuries just hadn’t been in their grasp.

And for that same reason Valdas had personally seen to ensuring the canvas would be restored as time wore on. Bolder, thicker strokes on cheeks. A newly discovered blue on her dress. Real gold painted into their wealth.

He rests his cheek on her shoulder. Lets his beard tickle the bare skin there.

“I intend to find an answer; whatever it may be.”

Isseya turns in her lover’s arms and rests their foreheads together. She feels so vibrantly — one of the things he’s always been enraptured by when it comes to her. A single soul in which the pain of the unknown is as harsh as the hope it brings.

“Come,” Valdas coaxes her with an offered hand, “he’s nearly finished and will be ready for us soon.”

“Best not keep the chained beast waiting?”

He stops and gives her an admonishing look. Isseya shrugs; familiar with every emotion except remorse even at this age.

“Best not let him hear that kind of talk, I think.”

“As if the Godmaker has ever cared about the whims of your disciples.”

“He may, now.”

“Because he needs us, Valdas. _He _needs _us._ Don’t let old loyalties cloud that from your sight.”

He sighs; doesn’t answer. They leave the portrait hall and venture deeper into the _Musea Sanguis._

Hand-in-hand the Trinity walks. What hangs thickly in the air around them is not fear but trepidation.

In the distance a solemn figure reverently returns a forgotten sword onto its claw-like perch. He frowns and adjusts his spectacles — tries to see if the imperfection is a trick of the dim lighting or really exists. Wipes a pocket square over one of the jewels embedded in the hilt just in case.

The couple approaches together with equal looks of bemusement at the man’s compulsions.

“Your trinkets can wait Jingyi,” chides Isseya — like a parent scolding their child, “the Godmaker would be remiss to find he was kept waiting because there wasn’t enough shine in an emerald.”

Though his back is turned the name has an affect on Scholar Jameson — makes him pause and fix himself as if to brush it off like dust on his lapel.

“That is no longer my name, Mistress Isseya.”

When Jameson turns his spectacles are plucked from his nose by her delicate hand. She looks them over with obvious distaste. “It was the name you bore when I Turned you,” she replaces them slightly off-center with amusement, “and I’ll use it as I like.”

Before Jameson can argue, Valdas jerks his head towards the deeper archives.

“Come.”

The vampires walk in stoic silence. With their age and skill it could be as easy as a step in the right direction at the right speed — but there’s an unspoken understanding among them that keeps the pace slow; solemn.

“Have you gathered all that was separated by the Council?” asks Jameson.

Valdas nods. “All but one.”

“But —”

“I’ve seen the lock myself, Scholar. We have five and five is all we need.”

“Do they suspect?”

“If they did we would not be so leisurely, I should think.”

“And the girl?”

He doesn’t hide his reluctance. The falter in his pace is enough — they stop just short of the turn. With gritted teeth Valdas gives a curt nod.

“My Maker and I have discussed her at length. She’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

It’s the change of plans that’s thrown the curator of the _Musea _off his usual balance. For years — and without the Trinity’s help or involvement — the same plan has been underway. First slow and small only to build with time before things would inevitably (and when the time was right, not before) come crashing down.

Jameson doesn’t do well with change. Never has.

They round into the alcove and Valdas wastes no time approaching the Onyx Sarcophagus. Places his palm flat on the heart of the thing and brushes away from of Vega’s leftover ashes with his thumb.

“My love — the keys.”

Jameson watches with an intellectual interest as his Maker procures a small leather pouch from her jacket.

“The Master and I are grateful for your help this last fortnight. We are truly lucky you accepted the young Lord Lafayette’s invitation.”

While Isseya busies herself with the pouch Valdas turns; gives Jameson a mocking smirk with pity in his eyes.

“There are many forces beyond even us that govern this world, Jingyi, but _luck _is a nonexistent façade.” 

Isseya upends the contents of the pouch into his waiting palm.

Jameson frowns; confused. “You mean to say…”

“The Godmaker’s reach is vast,” says Isseya instead, “vast enough to cross even oceans.”

They watch in silence as Valdas plucks each key from his hand and slides it into the tomb’s bespelled lock.

Five keys of black iron — rusting with time and disuse. Each identical to its siblings on the surface but buried with a different curse within. Five keys of six Council heads.

Obtaining them was the tricky part — impossible for a lone pursuer but the Trinity is never alone. _Even apart… never alone._

The first taken by chance; welcoming a weary soldier to the decadence of a _soirée._

The second slipped from beneath the breast of a careful and ancient nomarch during a chaotic ballroom.

The third key stolen from the bedside of a hedonist in the throes of passion the night before a trial.

The fourth taken moments before the knife severed head from neck in this very room.

And the final, the fifth, taken with great risk and golden opportunity when all were gathered to herald change.

Could they have simply taken the keys from their owners in violence and bloodshed; yes. Even Sayeed couldn’t have stopped them were they bound by the determination of their unwavering loyalty. But there’s a game to be made in conspiring in secret.

_And it’s been so long since they’d played._

Valdas slides in the final key and steps back. Watches with his lover beside as the metal begins to glow with witchfire — strong enough to kill if the set isn’t made whole.

Strong enough to hold back even the most powerful of them all.

Then a spark. A flickering light and the heavy lock bursts into flames that burn like the warmth of the sun against their faces. Valdas turns away with covered eyes. Isseya watches; entranced.

But the flames aren’t satisfied with just the lock; begins to spread outward to the chains link by link. Catching one after the other until the coffin is wrapped in tendrils of flame licking against the polished black surface but unable to burrow inside.

When there’s nothing left to consume; when all the links are shriveled into ash, the witchfire vanishes without a trace.

The hollow silence of the _Musea _is choking — stealing away the breath from their undead lungs. And then…

_c r e a k—_

As the coffin opens the Trinity drops to one knee — Jameson behind them catching his glasses before they fall to the carpet in his haste to bow in supplication.

The thud of the lid echoes deep in the marrow of their bones.

Valdas, the eldest of them all, is the first to look up. Takes in the appearance of his Maker with a smile of familiarity.

_“Good to see you again, Augustine.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. But this isn't the end of the journey for Nadya or the New York crew — who will return in _Bound by Destiny II_ sooner than you think! As always, comments and critique would be amazing. I hope you all have enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing!
> 
> Time for the story in New Orleans to begin; join Taylor and crew in _Bound by Circumstance_ posting next week!


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